


Journey Through the Darkness

by ahlewis32



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-31
Updated: 2012-03-31
Packaged: 2017-11-02 19:04:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahlewis32/pseuds/ahlewis32
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follows the romance of Alistair and the female Warden, Sarina, with emphasis on the Dark Ritual and it's effects on their marriage.<br/>WARNING:  This contains a scene with  a possible trigger for sexual violence. If you need help, please seek it, I beg you! I care about you!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Journey Through the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> When I first played Dragon Age: Origins, I found myself fascinated by the Dark Ritual and what it entailed. We aren't given much to go on but I recalled a conversation the PC can have with Morrigan regarding shapeshifting. If asked if she can shift into human form, she will reply that she learns nothing by becoming another human. I realized that she was not denying she could. That became the basis for this story; the effects of the Dark Ritual on the relationship between Alistair and his Warden wife.  
> 

The Demon in the Dark  
Denerim Palace

They were becoming worse.  
He’d seen her as before; beautiful, alluring, and powerful. Seducing him with her wicked words, changing before him into whatever he desired most, her dark hair spilling like a cloud, tempting him and daring him to take her again and again. He’d moaned in pleasure and ecstasy at her touch, giving in to the want and the need as he had so many times before….  
They really couldn’t be called nightmares, not by most people. Dreams they would say. Longings or passions unfulfilled. Unfulfilled my ass, he thought. Over-fulfilled…and dangerous.  
He paced in front of the sitting room window, worry and anger etched on his face. He’d come there so as not to disturb her. She would wake soon enough and find him gone; she always did. He poured another glass of wine from the table and sat down at the desk, staring at the wall. Alistair Theirin was not used to being out of control.  
Years of Templar training had taught him to maintain a calm reserve in the face of adversity. A warrior’s instinct channeled it inside and used it to fight. But how could he fight an unseen enemy that lurked in his dreams? He’d have to tell her and soon. How?  
He downed the wine and turned to look at the desk. Papers were strung over its surface: treaties, requests, and pardons, all needing his immediate attention. He lit the lamp and dove in. Why waste the time?  
He was midway through the missive from Rivain when he felt her presence. Alistair had tried for years to tune it out but was never able to; he always knew when she was near. That was one thing they never told you about in the Wardens, the taint made for an interesting marriage, not that he was complaining. Sarina Cousland Theirin was a formidable woman by all accounts, especially her husband’s: the Hero of Ferelden, Slayer of the Archdemon, Savior of Amaranthine, Commander of the Grey, his queen. Titles to be proud of and she’d earned every one. In their two and a half years of marriage and before, she had proven herself indispensable to the Grey Wardens, the country and him too many times to count.  
Sarina slowly walked up behind him as he sat at the desk. “You know I hate it when you do that,” he said, chuckling.  
“That’s why I do it,” she replied, “Always see the advantage and take it, my love. I would have thought you’d know that by now,”  
“Doesn’t mean I have to, does it?” he asked as she came to stand in front of him. “You are blocking my view.”  
“And again, you miss the advantage, husband,” and she laughed.  
Sarina looked at him with her deep green eyes and saw the turmoil; the nightmares were bad again. They would come occasionally to all Wardens but for some reason his had become worse of late. He would wake in a cold sweat, moaning, but would always resist her attempts to comfort him as she had in the past. He was on the edge of something but she couldn’t get him to tell her what it was. No one could.  
“Bad dreams?” she questioned.  
Alistair smiled, “Since when do you read minds, love?”  
“Reading minds is necessary when you are involved, husband. You haven’t figured that out yet?”  
Alistair laughed again, “No, I suppose I never will either.” He paused. “And, to answer your first question…yes.”  
Sarina’s face began to betray her concern. What was he holding back? The nightmares were suffered by all Wardens; even dwarves weren’t immune to them. For years they had plagued him occasionally but he had always been able to put them aside. Not now. What had changed?  
He sensed her worry and looked into her emerald eyes, his own blue ones shining. She was leaning on the desk, standing between him and it, clad in only a thin robe worn more for modesty than warmth. He placed his hands on her hips and drew her to him as she bent down to take his mouth in hers. He reached up and pulled the belt of the robe loose, letting it fall to the floor; his hands slipping inside the robe, drawing her closer as she straddled his legs, never breaking the kiss. His hands explored her, his woman, his rock and savior, banishing the dark one if only for a while.  
Afterward, as they lay in each other’s arms, he thought of their time together; the battles, the joys, and the pain seemed to pale before him. An old nemesis had returned to come between them; a creature long thought banished…Morrigan.

Tea and Green Eyes  
Ostagar

Four weeks, four battles and the only injury he had was sore feet. This war was definitely not living up to expectations. He had spent every battle on his feet with his sword in its scabbard while on guard duty, as a messenger, and delivery boy. Even a talk with Duncan hadn’t solved anything. Now he’d been told to play nursemaid to some recruits foraging out into the wilds. It was not going to be a good day.  
The worst was the Revered Mother. She had nabbed him coming out of camp and charged him the ‘very important task’ of delivering a message to one of the senior mages. He’d found the man meditating in the old ruined temple. The mage had been rude and insulting and Alistair had had enough.  
“I am here helping the Grey Wardens at the King’s request. I do not have time for such foolishness,” berated the mage.  
“Should I have asked her to write a note?” he asked sarcastically.  
“I have no time for this, fool,” the mage insisted.  
“And here I was going to name my first child after you. The grumpy one,” replied Alistair. The man had then gone a tirade that had lasted for five minutes but Alistair hadn’t noticed.  
She came up the steps to the temple carrying a bow as tall as she was. Long and lithe, with auburn hair and the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. “A goddess,” he thought dreamily, “She’s a goddess.”  
The mage suddenly realized that he was no longer the center of attention. “Enough! I’ll go see what the woman wants,” and he stomped off, mumbling something about women and Templars.  
Alistair was spellbound and had lost all ability to speak. Here he was, alone with the most beautiful woman in Ferelden and he was speechless. Finally, he took a chance and said, “You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together.” He was ready to crawl in a hole and die.  
Sarina Cousland had seen her share of men trying to be charming. Money, power and good looks had been the draw and she’d heard all the lines about her beauty, her charm, her grace. One particularly disgusting fellow had even complimented her on her feet! But this one, comparing the Blight to a social circle; she decided to play along.  
“I know exactly what you mean,” she said.  
He went on, “It’s like a big party, where everyone can gather around and hold hands. Now that would give the darkspawn something to think about.” He took a breath, “Wait a minute; I don’t know you, do I? You aren’t another mage, are you?” Panic had set in.  
Sarina smiled; he sounded harmless, “Don’t worry, I’m no mage.”  
“Ah, good. Less getting yelled at for me. Wait, I do know who you are. You’re Duncan’s new recruit, from Highever. I’m Alistair, the new Grey Warden.”  
“I’m Sarina, pleased to meet you,” she declared. She was beginning to like him.  
“As the junior member of the order, I’ll be accompanying you as you prepare for the joining.” He paused to catch his breath again, "You know... it just occurred to me that there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why that is?”  
Sarina blinked twice and wondered if she’d heard right. He was either a bumbling idiot, or the most charming man she’d ever met. “I can handle myself pretty well,” she answered.  
Alistair continued, “I’m getting that impression. So tell me, have you ever fought darkspawn before?”  
“Have you?” she asked him.  
“The first time, I wasn’t prepared for how monstrous it was.” he confessed.  
This admission was followed by thirty seconds of silence that seemed like thirty years. Sarina wasn’t sure that the man hadn’t gone into a coma and was about to snap her fingers in front of his face when he said, "Anyhow, whenever you're ready let's head back to Duncan. I imagine he's eager to get things started."  
Life with Alistair was not going to be dull, she thought. “I look forward to traveling with you, Alistair,” she admitted.  
Alistair was dumb-founded, “You do? Huh…that’s a switch,” and followed her as she led the way back to camp.  
No, this war was not living up to expectations and he wouldn’t have any other way.

*****

Sarina proved that she could handle herself more than just ‘pretty well’ that afternoon. She had handily dispatched four wolves with dead center kill shots from her bow before Alistair and the other recruits had even reached the pack. And darkspawn were no match for her sword wielding skills as she darted in and out of the fray so fast he couldn’t keep up. Traps, poisons, she was familiar with it all, and he had to smile as she argued with Ser Jory over the necessity of using poison when fighting. Alistair had never seen anything like her.  
They made quick work of collecting the blood and he stashed the vials in his pack for safekeeping. Finding the documents was next and he had a general idea of where the tower had stood. Alistair motioned for them to continue on.  
For her part, Sarina had to admit, that, except for Ser Jory, she was having a fine time in the Wilds with her new companions. Hunting and fighting were what she loved and here she was in her element. Daveth was attentive and charming, but nothing she couldn’t handle and Jory was whiney, but a well-trained fighter and had saved her from injury at least twice. They worked well as a team.  
Then there was Alistair. He was highly trained and skilled, charming and intelligent. She was most impressed when he used his Templar abilities to disable a darkspawn sorcerer. But Sarina noticed after about a half hour of travel that he was letting her lead, occasionally giving suggestions or directions as needed. It puzzled her but she allowed it to happen. “Perhaps he is supposed to observe us,” she thought.  
Their destination lay up ahead, ruined and nearly gone. After a particularly intense fight with a darkspawn patrol, they entered the tower and located the chest. Sarina knelt down and examined the box; it was broken and decaying, with no sign of its contents. The documents were gone.  
The witch had come upon them then, dark-haired with amber eyes, and a hard look that intimated long periods of solitude and contemplation. Her lips were full but set in a straight line that hovered between a sneer and a frown. She wore, and no one could really call it that, a hastily put together garment of leather and cloth that barely covered her. Yet, there was an intoxicating quality about her, as if she were a drink that only made you want more after the drinking. She held them all spellbound and knew it.  
“Well, well, what have we here? Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger amidst a corpse whose ashes were long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey? What say you? Hmmm? Scavenger or intruder?” she asked as she slowly walked toward them.  
Sarina spoke with caution, “I am neither. The Grey Wardens once owned this tower.”  
“Tis a tower no longer. The Wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse. I have watched your progress for some times. 'Where do they go,' I wondered,’ Why are they here?' And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?”  
Alistair took this moment to voice his fears, “Don't answer her. She looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby.”  
The witch was amused at that, “Oh, you feel barbarians will swoop down upon you?”  
“Yes,” he replied warily, “Swooping is bad.”  
Daveth had been watching this exchange with no small amount of fear in his eyes or his face, calling her a Witch of the Wilds and worrying out loud that they would be turned into toads. The witch was not impressed.  
“Witch of the Wilds? Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own? You there. Women do not frighten like little boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine,” she addressed to Sarina.  
“You may call me Sarina,” she’d answered.  
“And you may call me Morrigan, if you wish. Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest, something that is here no longer.”  
Alistair wasn’t buying the whole ‘I’m better because I live here’ attitude and accused the woman of stealing Grey Warden property. A slight smile spread across Morrigan’s face at that and she proceeded to tell him that the tower belonged to no one so anyone who wished them could have taken them.  
“Then who removed them?” asked Sarina.  
“Twas my mother, in fact.”  
“Can you take us to her?” she had asked, to which the witch told them to follow her.  
They had followed her to a hut that appeared more abandoned than lived in. Morrigan’s mother had had the documents as Morrigan had told them and handed them over with no trouble on their part. Morrigan had led them out of the Wilds and back to the gate at Ostagar before disappearing into the woods as quickly as she could. Alistair had a nagging feeling it wasn’t the last time he’d see her and that when he did it wouldn’t be good.

****

The Joining ceremony was to be held in the ruined temple shortly after dark. Alistair arrived early and helped prepare with Duncan.  
“So what did you think of the new recruits?” asked Duncan.  
“They all seemed to be qualified for the job,” he answered.  
“I am asking for a more in-depth assessment of their skills, Alistair,”  
“Very well, Jory appears capable and well-trained but he is overly concerned with his family. That could pose problems down the line. I wonder if he will be able to do what needs to be done.”  
“What of Daveth?” asked Duncan.  
“He’s quick with a blade and on his feet. Right temperament too. He’ll be fine,” answered Alistair.  
“And Sarina?”  
“You know, you could have warned me about her,” Alistair countered.  
Duncan looked pointedly at him, “And why is that?”  
“Well, let’s see, she shoots a bow like a Dalish master, wields swords and knives with the grace of a dancer, and is the most beautiful woman any one here has ever seen.”  
“I do not take a person’s looks into consideration when I recruit Alistair,” chided Duncan.  
Alistair smiled at his friend, “You’re telling me that you didn’t look?”  
Duncan huffed and continued his work, “If I did, I wouldn’t tell you anyhow.” To which Alistair laughed heartily until Duncan finally joined in.  
Shortly after this exchange the recruits arrived, Jory and Daveth followed not long after by Sarina. The three chatted amongst themselves about the Joining and the Wardens and Alistair found himself watching them. They were apprehensive and anxious as was expected but Sarina seemed to be more accepting of the situation. There seemed to be no fear and he prayed it would stay that way for her.  
Duncan began the ritual and had Alistair speak the words of Joining that had been spoken since the beginning:  
“Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you."  
Daveth went first but the taint was too much for him and he began to succumb. He perished under Duncan’s own hand, a mercy in the midst of the chaos. Jory could not handle what he’d witnessed and drew his blade on Alistair and Duncan, forcing Duncan’s hand and perishing under the Commander’s blade.  
Sarina quietly watched the scenes in front of her but still boldly took the cup and drank. Her eyes glazed over and she screamed. Alistair was quick to her side to ease her down to the ground. He watched over her until she revived, covering her with his cloak to keep her warm. She called out to people in her dreams; people Duncan said were gone now, her parents and nephew. Alistair shivered at the thought of what she had had to endure and reached out to stroke the hair away from her face as she lay there.  
Soon she awoke and was helped to her feet by Duncan. Alistair presented her with her Warden’s Oath to remind her of this night. She held the amulet in her hand, feeling the pulse within it beat, stronger than her own. She donned it before she and Duncan left for a meeting with the King.  
Alistair walked slowly back to the camp, the events of the day and evening on his mind. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something coming, and coming fast. Whatever it was Sarina would be a part and so would he. A formidable woman, he thought to himself, and smiled.

*****

Sarina sat on the edge of the fire hunched over, her arms wrapped around her waist. She’d thrown up twice so far and was fearful she would again. The taste of darkspawn blood wouldn’t leave her mouth.  
Alistair watched her from the other side of the camp. She was miserable and he knew it. It wasn’t the blood or the passing out that bothered her; it was the nightmares; twisted, convoluted thoughts that played with desires and wants. He’d been a broken man after his Joining and had never forgotten.  
He watched her jump up and run into the trees again and heard the gagging sounds. “Ah,” he thought, “I remember that part,” and he sprang into action. Putting a kettle on to boil at the fire, he pulled out his purse and went calling on the mages. There he procured a pouch of mint tea and brewed it in his cup. Stephon gave him some honey and he added a bit to the cup, then he called on Sarina.  
‘Here, this might help,” he said. She looked at the cup suspiciously then took it from him.  
“What is it?” she asked.  
“Mint tea with some honey. It should help settle your stomach. After my Joining it was the only thing that worked. Try it,” he pushed the cup closer to her.  
Sarina sipped the concoction slowly; letting it ooze down her throat. She sipped again then turned to him. “It does feel better. Thank you, Alistair.”  
“I’m glad you like it. Cooking isn’t really my talent but I can make tea,” he shifted in his seat trying to find the next topic. “Are you cold?”  
She took another drink, “A little bit, but I’ll be all right.”  
Alistair got up and went to sit next to her. He took his cloak, untied it and draped it over both their shoulders, tucking it in on the sides. Sarina looked at him, amazed.  
“Th…thanks, Alistair,” and she smiled weakly.  
“So beautiful and so sad,” he thought. He smiled back and moved a little closer to block the draft.  
They sat in silence for a while looking at the fire. Finally Sarina spoke haltingly, “The dreams…did you have them? After?”  
“I still do,” he answered. “All the Wardens do.”  
She hesitated, finding the words for the next, “I…saw things. Saw myself…doing things…to others. I enjoyed it. I….” Her voice trailed off and she hung her head in shame, tears falling into the cup.  
He put his arm around her and drew her head down on his shoulder and let her cry. They sat there for a few minutes, until finally she drew away, wiping her eyes. He handed her a handkerchief from his sleeve and she dabbed her eyes. “Better?” he asked.  
She handed him his handkerchief, “Yes. I think so.”  
“Would you like some more tea?”  
She smiled, “No, I’m fine now. Thank you,” she said.  
Alistair wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth, but he appreciated the effort. “Did you like it?” he asked.  
Another hesitation then the truth, “Not really, but it was just what I needed. Honest.”  
He chuckled, “I did warn you. You should get some sleep though, the battle will be early.”  
“I have nowhere to sleep. Duncan and I left the castle with nothing but what we were wearing and had to avoid any settlements along the way. I don’t have even a blanket.”  
“Then you can have one of mine. I have two. I’ll set up with the watch, they’re right over there,” he pointed.  
She looked at him, nervously, “I can’t take your bed, Alistair. You have to have somewhere to sleep too. She thought for a moment, “We’ll share,” she said. “You use the blanket and I’ll use your cloak.”  
Alistair had to admire her practical outlook. “All right, come along then,” and he smiled and helped her up.  
They slept that night next to each other, sharing their warmth. Sometime in the night, she cried out and he held her, stroking her hair to sooth her fears. They fell back to sleep in each other’s arms, sharing their comfort as well. Tomorrow was to be a long day.

Korcari Wilds

The battle was a disaster. Alistair and Sarina were assigned the task of lighting the signal fire at the top of the Tower of Ishal that would alert Teryn Loghain’s men to charge. The tower had been invaded by Darkspawn and they’d had to fight their way to the top. Once there they had managed to light the flame but had been overwhelmed by Darkspawn; neither had any memory beyond that.  
He awoke in a strange bed. His eyes hurt as did most every muscle in his body. He slowly sat up then heard a slight moan. He turned to look and saw Sarina lying next to him. Looking at her, he noticed she was naked as was he. He covered himself quickly then peeked to see if she was covered too; she was.  
Sarina’s head was bandaged and she had several poultices covering her upper chest and shoulders. She had been badly wounded. He looked at his own chest to discover several new scars and bruises. He looked back at his fellow Warden and stroked the hair away from her face; she didn’t respond. “Sarina?’ he called and still no response.  
Alistair turned and moved to the edge of the bed; he looked to find his splitmail and boots, lying on the floor near the door. He put them on, watching Sarina as he did so. He picked up his sword and shield and with one last look at her, went to meet his benefactors.  
Five days later found him standing on the edge of the lake, alone. Sarina had still not awoken. He had discovered that the other Wardens had died, as had Duncan and the King and he had never felt so alone. They were the last of the Ferelden Wardens and she might not live. Morrigan, the witch they had met in the Wilds, and her mother, Flemeth, had rescued them and been caring for them.  
The door to the hut opened and Sarina emerged, looking as hale and healthy as she had when they had met. He swore she was even more beautiful. Flemeth announced her presence.  
“There you are young man; here’s your fellow grey Warden.”  
Alistair had been overwhelmed to see her. He came forward slowly and put his hands on her upper arms, looking into her eyes for any changes. She smiled and he hugged her, relief overtaking him. He caught himself and pulled back, blushing. Sarina smiled at his joy.  
Flemeth was more than happy to give them help. She had procured the Grey Warden treaties that allowed them to recruit help from the elves, dwarves and the Circle of Magi. The plan was to raise an army and with the help of Arl Eamon, defeat the blight and the Archdemon.  
“There is one more thing I can give you,” said Flemeth and she sent Morrigan with them to help with their immense task.  
Alistair protested, “You don’t really want to take her because her mother says we have to, do you?” Sarina said yes, so Morrigan joined them. It was the start of everything that would go wrong and he never saw it coming.

Conversations and Revelations  
On the Road to Redcliffe

Lothering was in chaos when they arrived. Supplies were short and money low so they were forced to take outside jobs to pay their way. Alistair asked about for any news and discovered Arl Eamon was deathly ill. He was convinced they needed to get there as soon as possible. They recruited two new companions in the form of Leliana, a Chantry sister, and Sten, a convicted Qunari warrior. Each would prove their worth many times over.  
That night they camped just over the hill from the village in a secluded spot near a stream, sheltered from the elements and protected against attack. Alistair and Sarina were still tired from their ordeal in the Tower of Ishal so they turned in early, leaving Sten to keep watch.  
He heard her cries in his own dreams. She was lost, frightened and needed him. He searched and searched but she only cried harder and louder. He jerked awake with a gasp and realized the cries hadn’t stopped. Sarina was calling his name.  
Alistair rolled over and looked toward her sleeping form on the other side of the fire. She was thrashing around and moaning, calling his name. He ran over to wake her, shaking her hard. Sarina woke with a start, panting. She looked around, terror still stamped on her beautiful face. She pushed and fought him, finally releasing herself from his hold and running into the nearby woods.  
“Sarina! Come back!” he yelled and took off after her.  
“Here!” Sten called and tossed him a sword. He donned it as he ran.  
Sarina hadn’t run far, he found her collapsed on the ground about a hundred yards away sobbing. Alistair gathered her up and put his arms around her, soothing her fears and stroking her hair. She clung to him as she sobbed, drawing on his strength. Once she had calmed and the tears were spent, she drew back from him shyly, hanging her head, conscious he was dressed in only his breeches and sword.  
Alistair reached out and smoothed the hair from her face. It was like silk running through his fingers and it was hard for him to take his hand away, it felt so wonderful. He reached down and cupped her chin, raising her head. “Tell me about it,” he said softly.  
“He promised me I could see my family again,” she said, remembering, the tears forming again. “He would restore them to me if I followed him. I…I wanted to so badly. I wanted to do whatever he said, it felt so wonderful, but it was so…wrong. Oh Alistair, I couldn’t bear it! They’re dead!” She burst into tears again, broken and hurting.  
Alistair held her tightly, smoothing her silken hair and murmuring nonsense to calm her down. Alter a minute or two she finally did. “All of us have those dreams, Sarina. The Archdemon knows we are coming for him. He will use all powers at his disposal to stop us, including invading our dreams and promising us anything. You are strong, you can resist. I know it.”  
“How do you know?” she asked, sniffling.  
He took her hands in his, “You survived the Joining, the battle and your injuries; if you have that strength in you, and I know you do, then you can resist the Archdemon and we can defeat him.”  
“You sound awfully sure of yourself.”  
“No, I’m not,” he said, smiling, “but I am sure of you. You are the one, Sarina.”  
She wiped her face with her arm and looked into his eyes. He felt the world stop around him as he took in their emerald depths. He could get lost there and never want to return, he thought.  
Sarina smiled at his interest, “Thank you, Alistair.”  
“That’s what I’m here for, to deliver unpleasant news and witty one-liners. Let’s get back to camp,” he replied and she smiled again as he helped her up.

*****

The next morning, Alistair was stoking the fire when Sarina came up to him. She looked tired but had managed to stay asleep for the rest of the night. He had picked up his pallet and moved it next to hers so she would feel safer and had lain down next to her. He hadn’t slept and was haunted by the thought of her and the evil that preyed upon her. She was so strong and yet so vulnerable, just what the Archdemon liked. “How easy would it be to turn her?” he thought.  
“So you said Arl Eamon raised you?” she asked him out of the blue.  
“Did I say that? I meant dogs raised me, giant slobbering dogs from the Anderfels. A whole pack of them in fact,” he replied.  
Sarina narrowed her gaze at his response, “That would explain the smell.”  
“Well, it wasn’t until I was eight that I discovered you didn’t have to lick yourself clean. Old habits die hard, you know…”  
So she played along, “That would explain the breath as well.”  
Alistair smiled at her efforts, “And my table manners too, although come to think of it, they weren’t any different from all the other Templars.” He drew a breath, “Or did I dream all that? Funny the dreams you have sleeping on the cold hard ground, isn’t it? Are you having strange dreams?”  
Sarina called his bluff, “Only ones where we’re making mad love in my tent.”  
He was astonished, “I…oh…I think I…totally lost my chain of thought…Oh, there it is.” He paused, uncomfortably, looking for the right words, “Let’s see, how do I explain this? I’m a bastard. And before you make any smart comments, I mean the fatherless kind. My mother was a serving girl in Redcliffe castle and she died when I was young so the Arl took me in. He was good to me and I don’t blame him for sending me to the Chantry.”  
“Why did he send you to the Chantry?”  
“The Arl married a woman form Orlais and the new Arlessa resented all the rumors that I was the Arl’s bastard even though they weren’t true. So I was shipped off to the Abbey at the age of ten.”  
Sarina was appalled at his story. “That’s a horrible thing to do to a child!” she exclaimed.  
Alistair continued, “Maybe. She was threatened by my presence and I don’t blame her, she thought the rumors might be true. I remember I had an amulet with Andraste’s holy symbol on it; that was all I had left of my mother. I was so angry at the Arl I threw it against the wall and broke it; a stupid, stupid thing to do. The Arl came to see me a few times at the abbey but I wouldn’t see him and he stopped coming.”  
Sarina placed her hand on his arm and looked into his eyes. “You were young,” she said understanding.  
“And raised by dogs, or at least I should have been the way I acted. But the Arl is a good man and well-loved, as King Cailan’s uncle he has a personal motivation to see Loghain pay for what he’s done. That’s all there is,” he added and went to get more wood, Sarina watching him.  
They left for Redcliffe that morning to get a good start before the horde came closer. It would be a two-day journey and the road was not busy or bad so they could travel quicker. They spent time getting to know each other, and Leliana often sang songs to entertain. She had been a bard and knew many stories as well.  
Sarina had noticed several times that Alistair was quiet and not taking part in the conversation; she was worried about him. “Do you want to talk about Duncan?” she asked cautiously.  
His head snapped up to look at her, “You don’t have to do that. You didn’t know him as long I did.”  
“That doesn’t mean I don’t mourn his loss,” she explained.  
He was slow to answer her, “I…I could have handled it better. Any of us could have died, Duncan warned me. I’m sorry.”  
Sarina looked at him, a slight smile on her face, “There is no harm done, Alistair.”  
“I like to have a proper funeral for him once this is over. He came from Highever, so he said. He didn’t have any family.”  
Sarina placed her hand on his arm, “He had you.”  
He covered her hand with his and continued, “Part of me wishes I was there with him that day. It feels like I abandoned him.”  
“I understand.”  
“Of course I’d be dead then. That wouldn’t have made him happier.” He hesitated then turned and looked at her, “Have you had someone you were close to die?”  
Pain crossed her eyes as he realized his mistake. He squeezed her fingers as she replied softly, “I’ve lost enough to know what you’re going through.”  
“I imagine you really have. Thank you, it was good talking about this with a friend,” and he smiled.  
“I’ll go to Highever with you when you go,” she promised.  
Alistair looked at her and smiled again, “I think he’d like that, so would I.”  
The next night they were camped alongside a small lake. Sten had set snares and had managed to catch two ducks for their meal. Leliana had expertly cooked them using herbs and vegetables foraged by Morrigan and Sarina. They had sat by the fire and listened to Leliana’s stories and even Morrigan had joined them.  
Sarina had gone for a walk to the lake for water, but when she didn’t return, Alistair had gone to check on her, sword and shield in hand. He found her sitting on a log next to the water, watching the moon and stars.  
“What are you doing?” he asked, “I was getting worried.”  
“Oh, Alistair! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to worry you. I was just watching the stars. They are so beautiful tonight,” Sarina exclaimed.  
“And it can be so dangerous to wander off by yourself. Come on back and watch them in camp.” He held out his hand to help her up.  
Taking his hand and helping herself up, she turned to look at him as he stood with the moonlight shining on his dark blond hair. “Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?” she asked boldly.  
His eyes narrowed at this new subject of conversation. “Not unless they were asking me for a favor,” he replied sarcastically. “Well, there was that one time in Denerim, but those women were…not like you. Is this your way of telling me I’m handsome?”  
She smiled brazenly at him, “And if it is, what then?”  
“Oh, nothing much. I just get to grin a bit and look foolish for a while,” and he walked back to camp leaving her staring after him, smiling even more.

Redcliffe Village

The road to Redcliffe wound down a long hill towards the village on the shores of Lake Calenhad. As they turned the last curve before entering the village, Alistair put out his hand, took hold of Sarina’s arm and spoke, “Look, we need to talk a minute. There’s something I need to tell you that I should have told you before.”  
‘What is it?” she asked  
“Remember how I told you that my mother was a serving girl in Redcliffe Castle and Arl Eamon raised me? Well, the reason he did is that my father was King Maric, which makes Cailan my half-brother, I suppose.”  
Sarina was stunned, trying to take it all in. It wasn’t anything she’d expected him to say so she said the first thing that came to her, “So you’re not just a bastard but a royal bastard?”  
Alistair laughed, “Ha, I should use that line,” then he became serious, “I would have told you but it never really meant anything to me. I was inconvenient and a threat to Cailan’s rule so I was kept a secret. Even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it. I’ve never talked about it to anyone.”  
Sarina smiled, “I understand, I really do.”  
He sighed and smiled back, “I’m glad. So at any rate, that’s it. That’s all I needed to tell you. I thought you should know about it.”  
“Are you sure you’re not hiding anything else?” she asked carefully.  
“Besides my unholy love of fine cheeses and a minor obsession with my hair, no. Just the prince thing.”  
Sarina moved closer to him. “You’re a prince. I somehow find that thrilling,” she said dreamily.  
Alistair leaned closer to her, his voice husky, “Did I find the one damned decent thing about my birthright?” Sarina smiled and nodded. He broke his reverie and continued, “I have no illusions about my status. I’m a commoner and a Grey Warden and not in line for the throne. Arl Eamon is the one who should be king, he’s Cailan’s uncle and popular with the people. But if he’s as sick as they say….I don’t want to think about it.”  
He turned away for a moment looking down on the village below. “So there it is. We can move on and I’ll just pretend you think I’m some guy who was too lucky to die with the other Grey Wardens.”  
Sarina put her hand on his cheek and turned him to face her. “You don’t really think that do you?”  
Alistair covered her hand with his, “No. What I think is that I was lucky enough to survive with you.” Then he squeezed her hand and started down the hill, Sarina looking after him.

*****

Redcliffe was in chaos. Something evil in the castle had taken over and walking corpses were attacking the town night after night. Each night more people died so more corpses would attack the next night.  
Bann Teagan, Arl Eamon’s brother, was doing everything he could to fight the evil but resources were limited and the number of experienced warriors was dwindling. Sarina offered their help to the village, much to Alistair’s relief.  
They had recruited additional fighters and created several traps and barriers to help control the battle and maintain an advantage. The villagers’ hospitality to the Wardens was overwhelming as they were plied with food and drink constantly and anything else they needed.  
With about five hours until sunset, Sarina suggested they all get some rest so they would be fresh that night. Morrigan and Leliana took advantage of one family’s offer of a bed and Zevran paid a visit to the local tavern with Sten in tow. Sarina found a quiet spot under a tree near the Chantry and sat down to eat some fresh bread and stew. Alistair joined her.  
“This is where you grew up?” Sarina asked him.  
“Not here as much as up at the castle on the hill,” he answered, looking up at the castle towers. He’d been unusually quiet all day since he’d told her of his birthright.  
She sensed there was more than he was letting on. “Are you okay? You’ve been strangely quiet all day.” He nodded but she wasn’t convinced. “You can tell me, you know. You trusted me with the big secret, I think I can handle the little one too,” she said.  
He turned to look at her and searched for the words. He hadn’t thought he’d ever return here. All these people who knew him as a boy were depending on him to save them. The little boy he was kept intruding on the man he was now. “I…never thought I’d ever come back here. It’s…well…it’s not what I ever thought it would be like.”  
“What did you think it would be like?” she asked.  
“Oh, the ‘glad you’re home, Alistairs’ and the ‘good to see you agains’ that I keep getting. I always thought they hated me here. It’s a bit daunting, being worshipped. I’m not really cut out for that,” he explained.  
“You are a good man, Alistair. That’s what they see. You are giving them hope, even more so because you are one of their own. That means so much to them,” then she added, “and to me.”  
Alistair looked at her and smiled. She never noticed that the villagers had noticed her contribution even more than his. Several had even said, “That’s a good woman you got there lad,” and one had complimented him on his choice of wife. He spoke his feelings, “Sarina, they notice you more than they do me, everywhere we go. You have every man who talks to you in love with you after the first two words.”  
Sarina was flabbergasted and lightly slapped at his arm, “I do no such thing! You take that back!”  
Alistair laughed and laughed at her stubbornness, fending her off. Eventually she stopped huffing and smiled her sweet smile at him, and he fell for her like all the others had. He reached over and picked a piece of grass out of her hair and their eyes met. Her emerald eyes showed bright as she looked deep into his crystal blue ones. “Oh yes,” he thought, “I could get lost in those eyes.”  
He cleared his throat and broke the spell just as a group of children came spilling out of the Chantry, The sister in charge explained to the guards that the children had to have some time to play a little as they were becoming hard to handle inside. The guard suggested they stay close to the Chantry building in case they were attacked. The children began to play a game of ball in the small courtyard.  
Alistair watched as the children played. He looked over at Sarina and noticed she was watching too. All at once he jumped up and began to take off his armor. “Help me with this,” he asked her. She got up and helped undo the buckles of his breastplate. When he was down to his breeches and shirt, he ran out to join the children in their game.  
He soon had them organized into groups and was happily playing with them, laughing and joking. Sarina watched and laughed, seeing him so happy. He was so handsome and strong and she found herself admiring him physically as well, causing no small amount of blushing on her part. “Oh,” she thought, “That’s what I want.”  
After an hour or so, the sister called the children in and thanked Alistair for his help. He walked over to the tree and Sarina. “That was fun, but I need a rest,” he said and lay down under the tree in the shade next to her.  
She noticed he had his head on the hard ground and offered him the use of her leg as a pillow. He hesitated, not wanted to seem too forward with her. “I won’t bite,” she explained, “and, we have slept together before, haven’t we?”  
Alistair blushed at her comment. “I…suppose we have…so…okay, “and he relented. He was going to get damn little sleep, he thought. He lay his head down and looked up at her as she watched the boats out on the lake. “No,” he thought, “Damned little sleep,” and he watched her until he did.

Journeying to Circle of Magi

It had been a long and dirty fight to save the village. Alistair, Sarina and their companions were exhausted from the hours of attacking and withdrawing in an attempt to herd the corpses into the planned kill area. The burning oil from the store had been successful in trapping and damaging the enemy, allowing the villagers to pick them off with bows from a distance. No one had been lost in the fight despite the odds.  
With Bann Teagan’s help they entered the castle through a secret tunnel under the lake. Once inside, they fought their way through the castle room by room until they came to the main hall and the cause of all the death and destruction. The young son of the Arl and Arlessa was possessed and only a trip to the Fade to destroy the demon would save the boy. The blood mage, Jowan, could do the ritual needed but a blood sacrifice was needed. Sarina had refused to allow a sacrifice so they would travel to the Circle Tower to seek help from the mages there to stop the possession and save the boy, Connor. The trip was one day by boat so Alistair and Sarina had left immediately with Leliana.  
The trip was leisurely and the day was warm so they were able to relax and rest after their ordeal in Redcliffe. Leliana found a spot at the rear of the boat and went to sleep while Alistair curled up on a bench, but Sarina was restless and stood looking out at the lake from the front of the small craft, her eyes lost in the horizon. Alistair looked up at her and felt her pain. Something had changed and not for the better in her.  
He rose from the bench and quietly walked to her side. She stirred a bit, noticing his presence, but kept her eyes forward. “What is it? What’s changed?” he asked softly. “Have I done something wrong? Please tell me.”  
Sarina’s eyes closed for a moment as she tried to gather her emotions, then she turned and looked up at him and saw the worry on his face. She put her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around him, seeking his comfort and protection from the unknown. Alistair’s arms came around her and held her against him as he buried his face in her hair. “Shhhh….Whatever it is, it can’t hurt you now,” he cooed.  
“No…It can,” she replied, half sobbing. “I…” she trailed off, tears streaming down her face. ‘It’s...my home, my family.”  
Alistair cupped her chin in his hand and tipped her face up towards his, “Tell me,” he said quietly.  
Sarina sniffed and closed her eyes, reliving the pain. She told him of the night her family was killed, things she had seen, and things not even Duncan had known. She kept her eyes closed and told him of the fighting, Ser Gilmore, her mother and her father. They had made it to the larder escape way only to find her father mortally wounded and dying. Duncan had agreed to take her and her mother to safety but at a price. Sarina would become a Grey Warden. She had immediately agreed but her mother had refused to leave her father, so Sarina had abandoned them to go with Duncan. She blamed herself for their deaths. “That’s why I drank from the chalice, even though I’d seen Daveth and Jory die. I owed a debt for my life.”  
Alistair listened to all she said. No one should have to feel such pain, he thought. He tightened his arms around her and let her cry some more. In his heart, he cried with her. When she had calmed, he looked into her eyes and told her the truth, “No one could have prevented what happened, Sarina. If you had stayed behind, you would be dead with them, not here with me. You will have a chance to avenge them, I swear you will.”  
Sarina nodded and hugged him closer. He let her take the lead and held her tighter, feeling her breath on his neck while he buried his face in her hair. She worked her way to his face then looked up into his eyes, letting him lose himself in hers. Finally he spoke, “Sarina, I want….,” and she nodded, agreeing. “But not here, not now. Soon.” She nodded again.  
They stood there holding each other for a while, taking in the sun and the sound of the waves on the boat. Finally she pulled away and reached into the purse on her belt and pulled out a folded piece of paper and placed it in his hand. Surprised, he slowly opened it to reveal a small hand-carved amulet of Andraste hanging from a silver chain.  
“Is this my mother’s amulet? Where did you get it?” he asked, stunned.  
“I found it in the desk in the Arl’s study. Is it really yours? I wasn’t sure,” she explained.  
Alistair fingered the delicate pendant, looking at the repair marks. “I guess he took it and had it repaired. Why would he do that?”  
Sarina took his hand and closed it around the amulet, “Perhaps you mean more to him than you thought. I think he was going to give it back to you,” she said.  
Alistair just looked at his hand, the small package containing the amulet clenched in it. Sarina covered his hand with hers. “I can’t believe you remembered me telling you. I don’t know what to say.” His voice was husky with emotion, “Thank you.”  
“I remembered because you are special to me,” she said, looking up at him.  
He touched her cheek with his finger, running it down towards her lips. She shivered just a little and closed her eyes. “You are special to me too,” he replied softly and kissed her cheek.  
Alistair cleared his throat a little and asked her, “All this time we’ve spent together, the fighting and adventures, will you miss it when it’s gone?”  
Sarina looked at him and smiled, “It makes me tear up thinking about it.”  
He continued, “No more running for our lives, killing darkspawn or the constant battles. I know it’s strange but I’ve come to care for you a great deal. Do you think you might feel the same for me?”  
Sarina eyes twinkled, “I don’t know, it’s too soon to know for sure,” she replied.  
Alistair put his hands on her cheeks and held her face. “Is it too soon for this?” he asked. Slowly he lowered his lips to hers, touching them lightly. Sarina sighed and opened her mouth as he pressed his lips against hers, tasting her slowly, savoring her. She clung to him and let him indulge, tasting him herself. Slowly their lips parted and they caught their breath, their lips still touching lightly.  
“I think I’ll need more practice,” she said.  
“I think I can arrange that…Maker, you are so beautiful, I am a lucky man,” he exclaimed and kissed her again.  
Sarina put her arms around him and kissed him back, safe for a while as the boat cut through the waves

Relatively Home  
The Circle of Magi

The Tower was in shambles when they arrived. One of the senior mages had turned on the others and with the use of blood magic had sundered the veil and unleashed hell on the Circle. When they entered, they were warned there would be no help as there were no mages left and the Templars had called for the Rite of Annulment. They entered the Tower and with the help of the mage, Wynne, had defeated Uldred and his minions, saving many mages and securing their help and support.  
Wynne had asked to go with them to help their cause and they had readily agreed. She was a renowned healer and was capable of doing much damage to the darkspawn menace so she was heartily welcomed. With her in tow, they headed back to Redcliffe.  
Alistair had rarely left Sarina’s side since the boat ride to the Tower. They had collapsed and fallen asleep in each other’s arms and were awoken by Leliana for the midday meal. They sat next to each other, sharing their food and talking about their homes, and the tasks at hand with no small amount of kissing in the middle as Alistair had promised they could practice.  
Eventually they settled down for the trip, arms around each other, dozing and watching the world pass by. Alistair spoke to break the silence, “I was wondering if I could ask you a favor.”  
Sarina smiled, “I think I already did one,” she replied mischievously.  
“Oh…and well done indeed,” he said, kissing her again. “But since we may be heading to Denerim soon, I was wondering if we could visit someone there.”  
“This isn’t an old girlfriend or lover you want to see, is it?” she asked carefully, hiding a smile.  
Alistair was appalled, “Maker no, woman! You think I’d take you….No!” but when she laughed he grabbed her and kissed her soundly then continued, “Actually, I have a sister named Goldanna. She lives near the Alienage. She’s the only family I have not tied up in royalty. Could we find some time?”  
He was so sweet, she leaned in and brushed his lips with hers causing him to reach around her and pull her closer for more, “We could find some time, I think,” she replied seductively. Alistair didn’t hear the last; he was much too busy.

Redcliffe Castle

The party had arrived in Redcliffe early the next morning and headed straight for the castle. Several mages had already arrived along with First Enchanter Irving. Wynne volunteered to enter the Fade to battle the demon and had returned successful. Connor had been saved and mercifully did not remember anything he had gone through. The Arlessa had provided them with information needed to begin the search for the Urn of Sacred Ashes. She had hoped the ashes would cure the Arl of the poison that was slowly killing him. They had set off immediately.  
A few days later saw Alistair, Sarina, Zevran and Wynne in Denerim. They visited the home of a Brother Genetivi, whom the Arlessa said was researching the location of the Urn, only to find the man gone and his assistant replaced with a mysterious mage. The mage had attacked them but they had been able to find clues that Genetivi was headed to the small village of Haven west of Redcliffe. It was decided to leave for Haven as soon as possible.  
As they walked through the market district, Alistair suddenly stopped in front of a modest house on the edge of the market. He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and checked it over. “That’s my sister’s house, I’m sure of it,” he exclaimed. “Could we go in?”  
Sarina replied, “Of course, I’d love to meet your sister. Let’s go.”  
Alistair began to panic at the thought, “I don’t know. Are you sure? I could be wrong and we wouldn’t want to disturb anyone. Let’s go on.”  
She smiled and took his hand, “Come on, it will be all right,” and pulled him to the door and knocked.  
Goldanna turned out to be anything but happy to see Alistair or Sarina. She blamed him for her mother’s death and harangued him about being a prince and not taking care of his family. They had given her fifteen sovereigns and a promise to see her cared for and left the house as soon as they could get out.  
Alistair was a little in shock after the visit, admitting it wasn’t how he thought it would go. “I expected her to accept me without the nagging and complaining. I’m sorry I gave her any money,”  
Sarina had walked over to him where he stood, put her hand on his cheek and looked into his eyes, “Most people are out for themselves, Alistair, and you need to remember that. I am sorry.” He covered her hand with his own then took it and kissed it.  
“I know,” he said sadly, pulling her away from the house, “Let’s go.”  
He was quieter than usual for the rest of the day and Sarina had begun to worry. That night in camp she suggested a walk together after dinner. They walked silently, hand in hand, for a while then stopped to watch some geese on a nearby pond. Sarina had turned to him, placed her arms about his neck and kissed him lightly. The emotions ran high in him and she drew her in, holding her close and kissing her deeply, trying to forget his sadness. She let him try.  
Minutes later, both out of breath, they had parted. He kept her close and buried his face in her unbound hair. “Tell me,” she said.  
Alistair searched for the words, “Back at Goldanna’s you were telling me that I need to look out for myself more, that I need to start making my own decisions.”  
“Yes,” she replied.  
“Then it’s time I did,” he announced firmly. “I…wanted to thank you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” and he smiled.  
“You are to me,” she said and kissed him again, both of them letting the world move on.

Seeking the Urn

The road to Haven had been hard going, nearly all of it uphill. The group established a base camp from which to operate during their search. One afternoon, after she helped get water with Wynne, Alistair noticed that Sarina was missing from camp. He had asked the others and found she had unexpectedly walked away after returning with the water. He found her a few yards away, sitting on a log, tears in her eyes.  
She had heard him coming and was brushing the tears from her face and fumbling with her boot, pretending to retie the laces. Alistair sat down, not fooled, took her boot and retied the laces for her. “What is it?” he asked her.  
“It’s nothing, just foolishness. No matter,” she said quietly.  
Alistair let down her foot and took her hand, “I have learned recently that you do not cry over nothing.” He paused and brushed her face with his other hand, “Please tell me.”  
Tears formed again in Sarina’s eyes, “Wynne…she questioned my relationship with you. I think she doesn’t feel I’m good enough for you.”  
“She told you that?” Alistair was furious.  
“I think that is what she meant,” she answered, her head bowed.  
Alistair stood up and began to pace like he did when he was angry or thinking hard. Sarina had seen his father, Maric, do the same. “Meddling old bat,” he muttered, “Of all the nerve…” He stopped when Sarina’s lips met his. She had risen and stepped in front of him, stopping the pacing. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back.  
When they broke apart, she told him her decision on the matter,” If I had any doubts about us, they are gone now. She’s wrong and I’ll enjoy proving her and anyone else so.”  
Alistair was stunned as he looked at her, “Thank the Maker! Whatever did I do to deserve you?” and he showed her just how grateful he was.

*****

One their way back to camp, Sarina stopped Alistair. She had a look on her face as if she were about to tell him some bad news. He watched the thoughts racing through her head as her expressions changed. Finally she spoke, hesitating on the words, “Alistair, if you were raised in the Chantry, have you ever…?” Her thoughts trailed off.  
“Ever what? Seen a basilisk? Ate jellied ham?” he replied, grinning at her.  
She was red as a beet and twice as embarrassed, “Uh…well…sex?”  
“That’s what this is about? Oh…well, I never had a woman just come out and ask me before.”  
Sarina started to walk away, too ashamed and embarrassed to talk to him anymore.  
“Sarina, stop,” he pleaded. He caught her up and grabbed her hand. She turned to him but couldn’t look him in the eye. He leaned in slowly and whispered in her ear, “No, I never have,” he said, pulling back to look in her eyes, “but I have thought about it.”  
Her eyes grew big with surprise at his admission, “You’ve never had the opportunity?” she asked.  
“The chantry isn’t exactly the place for that sort of thing. We were all raised to be gentlemen in the presence of beautiful women life yourself. Not that that is a bad thing,”  
“Do you really think I’m beautiful?” she asked shyly.  
His hands trembled as he cupped her face, his voice husky with emotion, “I think you’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, or will,” and he bent down to kiss her. And for the first time in her life, Sarina Cousland actually felt beautiful.

Redcliffe Castle

It had taken them weeks to find the Urn’s location, but with the help of Brother Genetivi, they had entered the ruined temple. A strange cult of Andraste had taken over the area and proved difficult to extricate but they had come to the Urn and received a pinch of the ashes. Each one of them had come away from the experience changed but for Sarina the change was the most profound. She had received a vision of her father in the caverns that had altered her. Speech eluded her for hours afterward and even when she did speak, the words were spoken quickly and short. Only Alistair could reach her and even he could not go far.  
The two of them headed back to Redcliffe ahead of the others and arrived two day later, exhausted and dirty. The ashes succeeded and Eamon was healed of the poison that was claiming his life. The castle and village were put to rights and the dead were mourned and burned. Loghain had to be stopped and Alistair was the one who could, Eamon had said, he could be king. Alistair remarked that no one had asked him.  
But it was all hitting too close to home for Sarina. She kept reliving the scenes of Highever on the night that Howe took over. She took to wandering the castle and grounds, deep in thought at all times of the day and night. To say Alistair was worried was an understatement.  
He formed a plan that he knew she’d like. A packed dinner, a walk and a tour of the castle and grounds were just what she needed to take her mind off her troubles. After midday meal he found her in the rose garden, sitting amongst the blooms. He held out his hand her, “Come with me,” he said, “I’ve things to show you.” She took his hand and followed.  
They walked through the castle and he showed her his places, his room, his schoolroom, the lists outside and the bailey. Sarina listened and followed, slowly warming to the outing, occasionally asking a question or two. He told her stories, both good and bad, of Lana who had cared for him, the merchants and tradesmen who had taught him about their trades and of Aaron, the old stable master who had taken him in when he had been banished from the castle. They ate their meal in the rose garden.  
Finally, they had come to the stable. They had visited the horses, some of which had been there when he had been. They whinnied their welcome to him as they passed by and he had a pat for each. There was Aaron’s room off the main stable where Alistair had lived until Aaron had died. It was Aaron and his stories who had given him his love for history, he said.  
Alistair looked out the main doors of the stable to check the light, then took Sarina’s hand and pulled her along. He led her to a tall ladder at the end of the row of stalls and started to climb. He disappeared at the top then leaned over the edge and said, “Come on.” She climbed up after him.  
The light was dim in the loft area but she could soon see. Alistair was busy moving bales of hay around and away from a door set in the side wall. He unlatched the door and slid it aside, then held out his hand for her to come to him.  
Sarina was not prepared for what she would see; before her lay all of Redcliffe with Lake Calenhad and the mountains behind. The colors of the sunset lit up everything they touched, making it look warm and inviting. It was the most beautiful site she’d ever seen and tears formed in her eyes as she thought of the boy who had stood here so long ago and the man who stood here now. A special place indeed to have made such a man, she thought. “So beautiful,” she said.  
“Yes,” Alistair said, and she turned to look at him only to find he hadn’t been looking at the view, only at her. She blushed at his attention.  
“This is where you slept,” she said, half statement, half question.  
“Right there,” he said, pointing to the bales of hay he had piled. ‘It was always warm and soft, and I didn’t mind so much.”  
‘It wasn’t lonely?”  
“Sometimes, but everyone is lonely at some time, Sarina. You don’t have to get used to it but you do have to accept it.”  
“And you accept it?” she asked.  
Alistair moved to her side, and put his arm around her, “Not now. I don’t have to anymore. But I used to.”  
“What changed?”  
“I met you,” he answered her.  
They stood together and watched the sun set behind the mountains and Sarina put herself into his care. “Heal me,” she thought, “If anyone can, it’s you.”  
When the sun had set, Alistair closed the door and shot the bolt. Then he took Sarina by the shoulders and moved her to the wall. “Stay there,” he said.  
He pulled two bales next to each other and cut their bonds. The hay spilled all over and he kicked it into a large pile in the center of the floor. He went over to a corner where she noticed a locked chest. Alistair took a key out of his pocket and unlocked the lock. He pulled two blankets out and shook them. One he laid on the hay, the other he handed to her to hold. He walked over to the wall where a long pole was leaning. Alistair took it and shoved the pole up against a hatch set in the roof of the stable. The hatch swung open, dirt flying everywhere.  
“Sorry about that, I don’t think it’s been open for a while,” and he shook the dirt out of his hair. He held out his hand for her to come to him. “Here, lay down right here,” he said.  
Sarina did as he bade and he joined her on the blanket. They lay side by side and she looked up. There above them were the heavens, the stars twinkling, a whole show of lights. “Did you do this all the time?”  
“Whenever I could. It helped chase away the loneliness and the pain. It still works. I think about how my problems are so small compared to that,” he gestured to the sky, “and I stop worrying so much.” He turned to look at her, “Yours aren’t either…Come back to me, please?”  
She turned to him and laid her head on his shoulder as he put his arms around her. “I never left,” she said softly.

*****

Alistair woke before dawn to the rooster’s crow. Sarina was still asleep, curled up against him for warmth. He tucked the blanket around her and drew her in closer; brushing the hair away from her face and bending down to softly kiss her lips. She slowly opened her eyes and looked at him, her lips parting a little. Her fingers brushed through his hair and he closed his eyes. She brought her hand to his cheek and kissed him, softly and slowly. His lips opened and he tasted her, listening to her sigh. Alistair’s arms came around her, pulling her against him. Their kisses became more urgent and demanding and his hands began to explore just as hers did him.  
His mouth worked its way down her neck as he pulled the strings at the neck of her gown, kissing the newly exposed flesh of her neck and chest, his breath coming ragged. Sarina moaned slightly as he explored, her hands pulling at the tail of his shirt. Alistair stopped long enough to pull the shirt over his head; then returned to his work. Sarina ran her hands over him, feeling the muscles and curves of his back, spurring him on.  
He pulled at the top of her gown, exposing the top of one breast and caught his breath at the sight. He slowly ran his finger over it and she gasped. He kissed her hard, thrusting his tongue and tasting her; then slowly moved over her; never breaking the kiss, his hand slowly raising her gown. She shifted her weight to allow him.  
The sounds of the boys coming into the stables for their daily work made them pause. They were both out of breath, desperate with need. Reluctantly, Alistair pulled back, panting, looking at her. “Sarina…I…don’t think….” he said, struggling to regain control, “I want you so…but…”  
Sarina closed her eyes, fighting the urge to continue, and lightly kissed his cheek. “It’s all right… The time will come.”  
He held her tightly, stroking her hair, “Soon,” he promised her.  
They rose and readied themselves. Alistair folded the blankets and donned his shirt while Sarina tied her gown and smoothed her hair. She stood up and he handed her the blankets to hold, then walked back to the chest in the corner. He rummaged through the contents and she walked over to see what he had found.  
Out came three books, which he placed in the bag that had contained their meal. Some small-sized shirts and breeches, socks and small clothes next, followed by a small doll in the shape of a golem. Sarina smiled, remembering how he had told her about it. Finally, he pulled out a dagger, still in its sheath. He took it out and turned it around in his hand. It was made of veridium, elaborate runic tracery encircling the blade and hilt. The sheath was fine leather, reinforced with hammered veridium. “A gift from my father,” he said and stuck the blade in his belt. She didn’t know he’d known his father.  
The other items were placed back in the box and the doll was stuffed in the bag along with the blankets. He locked the chest again and placed the key in his pocket. A part of his life, finished.  
He turned to Sarina, who stood watching him, “The next part,” he thought as he looked at her, and they climbed down the ladder and returned to the castle.  
Darkness Wakes  
Denerim Palace  
“I need more,” she whispered, drawing him in again.  
“More….” he murmured and moved within her as before, giving in to the sensation and the need. He had ceased to exist and there was only her; she was his purpose, his reason for being. The age old rhythm carried him, again and again until he spilled within her, moaning with the ecstasy she gave him, still wanting more…  
Alistair jerked awake and reached for the sword that wasn’t there. He sat up, bathed in sweat and who knew what else, and shook the last vestiges of the dream out of his head. Suddenly cold, he reached for the robe at the end of the bed and rose, putting it on as he walked into the sitting room.  
He poured himself a drink from the bottle on the table; whiskey this time, wine had long since quit working, and stared out the window into the storm that raged over the city. A flash of lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the quiet town for just a moment, then darkness took the city again. Darkness always did, he thought, as he downed the whiskey in a single drink.  
His only solace had left the palace the day before for Highever and her brother’s seat. Newly an aunt, she had reluctantly gone to take her place at her niece’s dedication ceremony. “I can stay,” she told him, “You will need me.”  
“Go, love. I will be fine. Wynne is watching over me as is Martin. Send Fergus my best and kiss my new niece for me.” He had held her then, and she had gone, unconvinced.  
Yet even Sarina’s caresses were beginning to fail and Alistair feared he was going mad. Lack of sleep, worry and stress were beginning to affect his train of thought more and more, causing Eamon and Teagan both to question his health. Wynne had been called and after a lengthy and much too probing examination had prescribed a sleeping draught and rest, neither of which had worked. He was lost and couldn’t be found, he thought.  
A knock at the door disturbed his thoughts, “Sire, is everything all right? Do you need something?” asked a worried Martin, his manservant.  
Alistair smiled at the man’s concern, Sarina had been thorough, “all right, Martin. Go back to bed,” he called.  
He turned and leaned against the window, his hands bracing him on the sill. Lightning streaked again across the city and illuminated the room like daylight. He looked over at his right hand and noticed the scar snaking its way across the top of his hand. He looked at the scar, remembering how he had come by it, smiling as he recalled. He reached up and took the Warden’s Oath pendant he always wore into his hand, enclosing it into his fist. Closing his eyes, he thought of her and that day when everything had changed and they had had their beginning.  
 

Returning to the Start  
Returning to Ostagar

“It was,” Alistair thought, “the coldest he had ever been.” Of course, wearing seventy-five pounds of cold steel armor didn’t help. He was seriously questioning the wisdom of being a warrior.  
It had been miserable all the way from Redcliffe. A winter blast from the south had hit the party about two days out, making travel more difficult. They stayed in inns along the way when they were available but the farther south they went, the less available they became. Most of the inhabitants of the area had fled north in fear of the horde. The third night they took refuge in a barn that had survived the passing of the horde and slept in the hay.  
Alistair had pulled Sarina down into a pile of hay in a sheltered area and she had curled up in his arms and gone to sleep after a generous amount of kissing. Wynne had lain down on the other side of him and Zevran made a small fire and kept watch. Alistair had the second watch but couldn’t sleep, his mind traveling in restless circles.  
It had been Eamon’s idea that they make the trip. Sarina had wanted to go but was happy to wait until better weather. “You must go and see to the king,” he had said. “We must see him home.” Alistair knew there was no arguing with him. Sarina had agreed and Wynne and Zevran volunteered to go. The rest would remain in Redcliffe, seeing to the preparation of the army and keeping track of the horde.  
They had run into little resistance along the way, most of the Darkspawn had moved on, but there were some stragglers. About a day out of Ostagar, Alistair’s body thrummed with the now familiar tingle and he focused in on an approaching group of Darkspawn. Wynne and Sarina moved to the sides to focus on the outside of the group while Alistair and Zevran went down the middle. It took only minutes to finish them off and Alistair hoped this was as difficult as it would be. He was wrong.  
They made it to the gates of the great fortress and were assaulted almost immediately. The Darkspawn had made the area a base for their activities and were everywhere. They killed dozens within minutes. Moving systematically through the old camp, they cleared out as many as they could find, taking rest at the old Warden campsite. Sarina and Wynne busied themselves, looking for signs of any survivors and locating any items that could be salvaged. Alistair and Zevran scouted ahead.  
Sarina located the statue where the key to Cailan’s arms chest had been hidden. She and Alistair had found the chest and opened it, discovering many of Cailan’s personal belongings and correspondence. These were bundled up to be taken to Eamon and the Queen. Among the items in the chest was King Maric’s sword. Alistair pulled it from its scabbard; it was made of veridium, runic tracery decorated the blade and scabbard. He pulled his dagger from his belt to see that it was a match to the sword. They had been intended as a set. Alistair had unbuckled his own Warden’s sword and donned the blade. “Perhaps I can do what Cailan could not,” he thought. He stuffed his sword in the sack with the items they had scavenged.  
Moving slowly, so as not to attract too much attention from the Darkspawn, the group had moved towards the ruined temple on the north side of the complex. Zevran and Wynne went to check out the area where the mages had been camped and Sarina had walked to the temple area.  
She moved slowly through the rubble, stopping to look at discarded items she found along the way, Alistair watching. Suddenly she stopped and stood still as if remembering something she’d forgotten. Then she turned to him, “It was right here,” she announced, pointing at the ground.  
“What was right here?” he asked, walking towards her.  
Sarina smiled and laughed at his ignorance, “This is where we met. You can’t tell me you’ve forgotten that.”  
He shrugged, “I was hoping you had forgotten all that. It wasn’t one of my best days.”  
She laughed and looked up at him. “You were so cute trying to make a good impression.”  
“And failing miserably.”  
Sarina shook her head, “No, you didn’t. I’m still here aren’t I?”  
Alistair took his hand and placed it on her cheek, letting his thumb caress her chin. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply, moving closer to him and putting her arms about his neck. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “So you are,” he said huskily and turned to kiss her deeply, his arms encircling her tightly. He pulled away slowly, catching his breath and touching his forehead to hers. “Regrets?” he asked.  
“Only one,” she stated firmly, leaning in for another kiss, “That I didn’t meet you sooner.”  
*****  
Alistair had suggested they cross the causeway and head toward the Tower of Ishal. They had looted a few pieces of Cailan’s armor from dead Darkspawn and he wanted to see if there were any more. Halfway across the bridge, he stopped dead in his tracks and stared ahead. Sarina had been alarmed at the change in his demeanor and had looked to where he was staring. She had not expected to see what she did.  
He had been hung on crossed poles, tied together with old rope, his body used as target practice for the bowmen. The only solace they had was that he had already been dead. Wynne suggested that she and Zevran forage ahead for a bit and the two departed. Sarina looked into Alistair’s eyes and saw the tears he wished he’d shed for the brother he didn’t know. She placed her hand on his arm and turned his head towards her. He took her in his arms and shed them, finally able to show his grief.  
Sarina held him until he was ready to continue. ‘Forgive us, my king,” he said, “We will return to send you on.” Then he took her hand and they went to find the others.  
They made their way to the tower, encountering some resistance along the way, but were able to handle it easily. After entering, they made their way through an underground passage that led to the battlefield below. The group fought a Darkspawn necromancer who raised the dead to battle them. After a difficult fight, Sarina looted the bodies while Alistair scouted the area. Wynne tended to Zevran’s injuries and her own.  
Suddenly Sarina felt a sharp pain in her left side, followed by an unbearable heat. She looked down and saw an arrow sticking out of her shoulder. She reached down to pull it out, but didn’t have the strength to grab hold of it. Everything was in a fog and moving slowly as she turned to look around her. “I…oh!” she said and everything went black.

The Road to Redcliffe

The arrow had been shot by a Genlock archer who had been hiding in a clump of trees. Wynne had shot an electric charge that had destroyed it as Alistair ran to Sarina’s side. He saw the arrow protruding from her shoulder and had pulled it out through her back, per Wynne’s directions, slicing his gauntlet and hand in the process.  
Wynne had immediately begun to heal the wound while Zevran helped staunch it. Slowly Sarina had come to, and had insisted she was fit enough. The arrow had not penetrated anything vital and she had not lost much blood, so they had decided to continue on, watching her closely. Wynne had tended to Alistair’s hand before they left.  
The men collected branches and logs, then had carried the king’s body and laid it on the makeshift pyre. Wynne and Sarina had washed the body and removed as many of the arrows as they could. Alistair lit the pyre while Wynne recited a passage from the Chant of Light. “Forgive me, brother. I would this had been a more fitting end for you,” Alistair had whispered. Then they gathered their equipment and made their way out of the fortress.  
They had camped in the open that night. The group had overridden Sarina’s request that she be allowed to stand her watch as usual. Each one of the others would stand a three hour watch and she would rest the whole night. When she had protested, Alistair picked her up and had placed her on her blanket, lay down beside her and gathered her up tightly in his arms, thus preventing escape. She relented and fell asleep quickly.  
The next morning, Zevran had gone ahead to scout and had returned with news that a large group of Darkspawn had been seen due north in the direction they were headed. East would return them to Ostagar so it was necessary to head west and avoid contact with the band.  
Sarina had awoken late and was still groggy with sleep. Her arm hurt and she wanted to rest but kept herself going nevertheless. By late morning, she could hardly put one foot in front of another, she was so lethargic. She stopped in her tracks, “Alistair? I can’t…,” she said and collapsed to the ground.  
Alistair had been regaling the group with a story of his time in the Abbey when he heard his name and turned around quick enough to see Sarina crumple to the ground. “Sarina!” he yelled and ran to her.  
He picked her up and Wynne examined her. She was feverish and nonresponsive. Zevran wrapped her in a blanket. Wynne had filled a bowl with water and had begun bathing her forehead and wrists to lower her fever. Alistair took a rag and wiped her face and neck.  
Zevran returned from a quick scout and had discovered an abandoned farmstead nearby. Alistair carried Sarina to the small house and placed her in a bed, while Wynne unpacked her kit and began treating her. Zevran had started a fire and found several cooking pots and utensils and had begun heating water for the mage.  
Alistair wouldn’t leave Sarina’s side, insisting on helping her with everything. For her part, Wynne was grateful but concerned for his mental state. Finally, she had Zevran take him out and see that he was fed and rested then she concentrated on the cause of the illness. “Poison,” Zevran had deduced from the taste and smell, “Deathroot based. It causes hallucinations and will paralyze completely if enough is used. It is a popular tool for assassins.” Wynne sent him to collect more of the substance for study and he was glad to go.

*****

It had been four days since the arrow had done its damage and she was no better. Alistair sat by her bed, his eyes red from lack of sleep, never letting go of her hand. Wynne had done all she could do and it was up to Sarina herself now, she had to want to live. He had encouraged the mage to go and rest; he would let her know if there was a change. Zevran had agreed with Alistair and told Wynne he would watch him and make sure he was all right. Wynne had relented.  
Alistair kept bathing Sarina’s forehead and neck with water; her fever was down but she was still unresponsive. Grief was beginning to overcome him.  
“Sarina? Please come back to me. I need you,” he pleaded over and over with the same results.  
“I’m sorry,” Wynne had said, “I didn’t know you felt so strongly for her.”  
“I love her,” he had told her, without hesitation, “She’s all I have.”  
“Then tell her,” Wynne had replied and left him alone.  
“Sarina? Please come back. I love you. I can’t go on without you,” he begged, “Please stay with me.”  
He told her of the little things he loved about her, her smile, the look she got on her face when she was perplexed about something, those beautiful green eyes. He told her stories of his youth and from his favorite history books, anything he could think about. Finally, he told her about the garden at the palace in Denerim and how he would walk among the vines and think about what the girl he’d love would look like. “She looks like you,” he said. He talked and talked until he fell asleep from exhaustion.  
She began to wonder where the voice had gone. It had been so sweet and wonderful to hear and she wanted it back. “Alistair’s voice,” she thought. She opened her eyes slowly and peered into the dark.  
Sarina looked down at her side and saw him, sound asleep. The tracks of tears lined his face as did the lines of worry. She slowly raised her hand and caressed his blond hair, feeling its softness under her fingers. He stirred under her hand and the corners of his mouth rose and fell in a smile. She smiled and stirred, waking him.  
Alistair looked up and saw the green eyes he loved so much watching him. He took her face in his hands, “Hi,” she said softly, “I missed you.”  
Overwhelmed, he laid his head on the bed, crying tears of joy.

*****

Sarina began to recover quickly now that she had awoken. “Grey Warden stamina,” Alistair had said, causing her to smile.  
“Sure, take all the credit,” Wynne had joked, but had secretly agreed with him. Sarina had smiled again.  
The next day she persuaded Wynne to let her take a walk around the farm for some fresh air, accompanied by Alistair. Wynne had given in, mostly because Sarina was right, but partly because she had been wrong about Sarina and Alistair and owed them an apology.  
They walked through the barnyard, looking at whatever they found until they found an old bench propped up against a shed. They sat down and Alistair took her hand in his. She looked down at the bandage on the back of his hand.  
“What did you do?” she asked, worriedly.  
“Oh…I cut my hand at Ostagar,” he replied.  
“Was it bad?”  
“It hurts a little. I did it when I pulled the arrow out of your shoulder,” he said.  
Sarina got suddenly quiet and a strange look fell over her face. Alistair put his arm around her but she resisted his comfort. Finally she spoke, “I lied to you,” she said to him.  
‘What do you mean?” he asked.  
“I lied to you when I told you about the Joining.”  
“I don’t understand,” he told her.  
“You asked me why I drank from the chalice after I saw Daveth and Jory die. I told you it was because I owed a debt to Duncan for my life.”  
“Yes, you said he got you out of the castle. “  
Sarina looked off into the distance as if she were looking into the past, “That’s not the reason,” she said.  
Alistair asked, “What is the reason then?”  
Sarina turned to look into his eyes, “I wanted to die,” she told him softly. “But I didn’t. I kept trying but I couldn’t. No matter what I did.” She took his hand and held it in hers, “Now I can’t die, because if I do, I couldn’t bear to leave you.”  
Alistair took the woman he loved in his arms and held her and knew their time had come.

Redcliffe Castle

Two days later, Wynne determined that Sarina could travel if she took it easy. Zevran found no trace of the Darkspawn group that had forced them to detour east so they headed north towards Redcliffe.  
Alistair stayed close to Sarina and took the lead, allowing her to conserve her strength as much as possible. She became tired often so they took frequent rests. At night he sat near her, seeing to her needs, and sharing her bed, his arms wrapped around her, keeping her warm.  
Something had changed between them since Ostagar. The fire he felt for her was there, stronger than ever, but banked and steady and under control. He found he could not keep from touching her, and she felt the same. They were always seen holding hands and sitting or standing so close together they touched. Zevran and Wynne had noticed the change and smiled to each other. They were at a junction in their life together and were ready to decide the direction they would travel. “Soon,” was here.  
They arrived in Redcliffe in midafternoon and were immediately escorted to see the Arl. They told him of Cailan’s death and showed him the documents they had discovered in the chest. Eamon assured them he would see the King’s possessions sent to Denerim and the Queen. Eamon had noticed Alistair was wearing his father’s sword. “Why not?” Alistair said, “It’s mine now.” To which Eamon had only smiled, noticing the change in his attitude.  
Alistair took Sarina to her room with orders that she stay put until supper. She had protested so he picked her up and set her on the bed, holding her down to remove her boots and armor, then removing his own and climbing in after her. He drew her up into her arms and both fell fast asleep to be awoken by a servant sent by the Arl to call them dinner.  
Dinner was an exhausting affair of multiple courses and conversation. Afterwards everyone grouped by the fire in the main hall to be entertained by Leliana and Zevran, who had a few less than appropriate stories to tell but that were well received anyway. Alistair regaled the group with their adventures at Ostagar, kindly embellishing Sarina’s wound as “minor” to which she was grateful, earning him a kiss on the cheek.  
The festivities went on until late in the evening; Sarina had fallen asleep on the settee snuggled in Alistair’s arms and could not be awakened. He picked her up and carried her up to her room, laid her on the bed, and removed her shoes. He took off his boots and climbed in after her, falling asleep holding her close.  
In the early hours of the morning, Sarina stirred in his arms and turned towards him, her arm reaching over his chest and her face nestling in his neck. Alistair turned his head, took his free arm and brushed her hair off her face, caressing the strands with his fingers.  
He’d kept his attentions simple since her injury, not wanting to press her. Now he turned slightly to face her, and lightly kissed her lips. She woke with a slight start, opening her eyes and looking into his. Her hand came up and her finger traced the Warden tattoo around his eye, marveling at its intricacies. He closed his eyes and felt the touch of her finger on his skin, taking her in. Slowly she let her fingertip trace down the side of his face to his lips, tracing their outline. He opened his eyes and kissed the finger as she held it there, then took her hand away and slowly brought his mouth to hers.  
Sarina opened to him, giving him everything she had; they were baring their souls to each other in a Joining of their own making and there would be no turning back. She was well now, and he was ready. 

*****

Morning brought another round of meetings with Eamon in his study and more in the afternoon. Evening meal was simple, just family and the companions, with talk and entertainment after in the hall. Alistair and Sarina had had no time to talk to each other alone all day and now they sat together on the settee, Sarina leaning her head against his shoulder while resting her hand on his knee. Alistair was happy, keeping her close, playing with strands of her hair.  
As the evening wound down, he leaned over, “Tired?” he asked her.  
“A little,” she said.  
“Come on. I’ll walk you up,” he told her, and offered his hand. She took it and they walked up to her room, stopping by the door.  
Sarina opened the door and turned to him. He stood there and looked at her for a long moment then bent down and kissed her, taking her in his arms. He pulled away slowly, saying “Goodnight.”  
“Goodnight, Alistair,” she replied quietly and he backed away as she slowly shut the door.  
When he heard the bolt drawn he leaned forward, sighing, his forehead resting on the door. Then he turned and headed towards his room.  
“Well?” Leliana said, startling him.  
“I hate when you do that!” he answered disgusted, “Well what?”  
“I thought you told me this was the night?” she said. “I guess I heard wrong.”  
Alistair turned to look at her. “It…wasn’t right,” he replied.  
“Of course it is right; it is you who are wrong. She loves you, Alistair and you love her. That is right enough.”  
“But…I…”  
Leliana took him by the arm and pointed him towards Sarina’s door. “No buts…go! I will keep Eamon busy in the morning and bring you something to break your fast. Go!” She pushed him hard toward the door.  
Alistair looked at the door ahead then turned to look at Leliana. “Go!” she said. He went.  
He stopped at the door to her room, raising his hand to knock. “She never turned me away before. Why would she now?” he thought, “I love her.” He knocked.  
“Just a moment,” was the reply. He heard her walk across the room and heard the bolt being drawn. The door slowly opened.  
“Yes? What is it...Alistair?” she asked, puzzled.  
“Sarina…I…” he started. She was dressed in nothing but her thin nightgown, a shawl thrown over her shoulders. Her auburn hair glowed in the candlelight like a halo around her head. He pushed the door open and took her into his arms, kicking the door shut behind him with his foot. Sarina wrapped her arms around him and kissed him, holding nothing back.  
“Please…Sarina. I need you so. Let me stay,” he asked, pleading.  
“I thought you’d never ask,” she cried and kissed him hard.  
Alistair pulled away, looking at her, “I’ve…never done this before, you know that.”  
“Neither have I,” she said.  
He hesitated, ‘Umm…how should I start?”  
Sarina giggled. “Well, I suppose we should set some…well…ground rules.”  
“Okay… what?” he asked.  
“If you want something special, ask for it and I will ask you.”  
“All right.”  
“If you like something, you’ll tell me and I will tell you,” she continued.  
“Sounds fair,” he said.  
“I thought so,” she replied, “Lastly, if you are nervous or scared, just kiss me. You know how to do that.”  
“I really need to kiss you now,” he said nervously.  
“Oh, and you don’t have to ask,” she added, smiling. So he didn’t.  
After a while, he asked, “What’s next?”  
“Take off your boots, first.”  
‘My…oh, of course.” He sat down on a chair near the door and took off his boots.  
Sarina watched him as he worked off the boots. “Now, take off your shirt,” she said seductively.  
Alistair stood and pulled his shirt out of his breeches and over his head. Sarina slowly walked around him, admiring, then stopped to shoot the bolt in the door. She turned around and ran her hands across his chest lightly, smiling as she noticed his trembling. She walked around him, touching, and leaning in to kiss his skin. She heard his breath turn ragged as she tasted him, slowly finishing her circle.  
When she finished, she looked up at him, seeing his eyes closed and his fists clenched. “What’s next?” she asked.  
Alistair opened his eyes, then took his hands and put them on either side of her face, drew her in and kissed her hard. His arms encircled her and he pulled her close, feeling all of her against him. He worked his lips down her neck to her throat, hearing her soft moan, and pulled the laces of her gown, exposing her shoulders. Sarina caressed his back and ran her hands around the waistband of his breeches to the front, then pulled the laces as Alistair kissed his way across her chest, pulling the neck of the gown down to expose more as he went, his lips following.  
He pulled back long enough to ask gently, “What’s next?”  
Sarina moaned softly, speech eluding her, “I…I...”  
Alistair took the lead and pulled her gown and exposed the tops of her breasts, listening to her sighs. His hands cupped her breasts through the gown as she ran her hands down his sides and into the waistband of his breeches. His breathe became ragged and he inhaled deeply, and gently pulled her hands out of his waistband. “Sarina…” he murmured and kissed her, taking her in.  
Sarina’s hands came up and around his neck as his arms moved to encircle her waist and lift her off the floor. He carried her to the bed, letting her go and breaking the kiss to remove her gown. Alistair pulled back and looked at her, his hands lightly moving over her arms, to her neck and down to her breasts and waist. She closed her eyes and gasped, “You are so beautiful. I’ve wanted…to see you…,” he whispered, “Are you sure?”  
She took his hand and brought it up to her lips, “Yes,” she said, and took him to bed. He removed his breeches, climbed in and took her in his arms, kissing her until they were both breathless. He slowly moved over her, bracing himself with his arms until she could feel him, ready to enter her. Sarina placed her hand on his cheek and said, “Yes.”  
“Sarina, love, it will hurt, I think…or so I’m told. I…don’t…” he stuttered and halted, his concern for her evident in his voice.  
“Shhhh, I know, and only the once. Please Alistair, I want it so,” she begged.  
Alistair slowly entered her carefully; she was so tight, so warm and welcoming and he felt as if he was home at last with her. He reached the barrier and stopped, gathering himself, gauging her reaction. She moaned slightly, breathlessly, and reached around him with her arms, pulling him in. “Sarina…,” he gasped.  
“Please….Alistair. I…yes!” she panted and he buried himself in her.  
She let out a gasp and a small cry, clinging to him and he could feel her tears wet on his shoulder. He stayed as still as he could, letting her get used to him, feeling her wrapped around him, reveling in her comfort. A minute or two passed and she drew back and kissed him. “All right?” he asked her, fearfully.  
Sarina opened her eyes and looked into his crystal blue ones, seeing the concern and love, “More than all right,” she told him happily, “Don’t stop.”  
He smiled, “Your desire is my command,” and he slowly moved within her, watching her for any discomfort. The age old rhythm took over and waves of pleasure assailed his senses, washing over him, building, until he cried out her name as his release came and he crossed that last boundary between them.  
Sarina held him as he found himself, soothing him in her arms, stroking him with her fingers until sleep claimed them both and the demons were at bay.

*****

He’d had her two more times by the time the early morning light began to shine through the window. They had slept in each other’s arms and she had awoken him, stroking and kissing, nipping and tasting, her soft laughter like music to his ears. Alistair had grabbed her and pushed her down on the bed, holding her down as he fondled and caressed her, searching for the secret places of sensation. Sarina had giggled and he had laughed, both reveling in the joy of their bodies and each other. He’d entered her again and when spent had gathered her up and took the sweet oblivion of sleep.  
Shortly before dawn they had awakened again, facing each other. He pulled her close and kissed her lightly, slowly, deepening the kiss until he felt he was taking in her very soul and she his. They moved together as one, as if they knew what each was thinking, giving and taking what they needed, but always together. He’d taken her when she had opened for him and they moved together silently, letting the moment have them. She had responded then, crying out his name as waves and waves of passion assailed her, sweeping him along, until they had no more left.  
They returned from their reverie and she looked at him with a look of wonder and told him what he had prayed she would say, “I love you,” she’d said, her voice trembling with emotion, “Never leave me.”  
“Never,” he’d said, “I love you…always,” and kissed her; she was his.

*****

Alistair woke again to the knocking, Sarina stirring in his arms. “What is it?” she’d asked sleepily.  
“Nothing, love, go to back to sleep,” he told her and kissed her cheek. She rolled over and sighed and fell back into her dreams.  
He grabbed the sheet and wrapped it around him, stepping quietly to the door. “Alistair! Open the door!” said Leliana’s voice from outside. He threw the bolt and opened the door.  
“You have the food? I’m starving,” told her.  
“Here,” she said, “Some fruit and cheese with some ale. Sorry but that’s all I could sneak out of the kitchen.” She handed him a small sack.  
“Thanks, you’re the best,” he replied, taking the bag. “Any trouble with Eamon?”  
“A little, nothing I can’t handle. He must have been quite the rake,” she explained. “I see where Teagan gets it.” She examined him closer, “You look tired…have fun?” she asked playfully.  
Alistair blushed but didn’t withdraw, “As a matter of fact, I did. Where’s my armor?”  
“Here,” said a second voice, male this time. “How do you wear all this?” asked Zevran.  
“Just fine, thank you. What is he doing here?”  
“I couldn’t carry everything so I had to get help,” she explained. “Zevran volunteered and it’s not like he didn’t know.”  
“Well my friend,” Zevran started, smiling wickedly and trying to peek through the door, “Feeling good this morning? Anything I could help you with?”  
“Go away Zevran!” he told the elf. “You couldn’t find someone else?” Alistair asked Leliana, disgusted.  
“No, I couldn’t. Now get back in there, you have to be dressed in armor and downstairs at midday,” she chided him, “Have fun!”  
“Leliana,” he called and she turned back to face him, “thank you.” He kissed her check and she looked him up and down approvingly, “You are welcome,” she said quietly and took off, Zevran at her heels.  
Alistair closed the door and dropped his armor. He looked over at the bed to see Sarina laughing at his discomfort. He shrugged his shoulders, rolled his eyes, got back in bed then opened the bag and took out an apple.  
“Hungry?” he asked her.  
“Starved, you?” she answered.  
He looked at her sitting there, her hair tumbling down around her shoulders, so seductive and beautiful, “Yes,” he said hungrily, moving towards her.  
“I thought so,” she said, smiling, taking him in.  
Later, Alistair turned to her, pulling off his Warden’s Oath pendant, placing it in Sarina’s hand. “Here,” he said, will you wear this? For me?”  
Tears of joy welled up in her eyes as she looked at the necklace. It was his most prized possession he had told her once, and he never took it off. She could feel the pulse of the blood it contained, from his Joining ceremony so long before. She took her free hand and removed her own pendant from around her neck and put it into his open hand. “If you wear mine,” she promised.  
“Always,” he said, “Never leave me, Sarina, I love you so.”  
“I love you, Alistair. And I never will.”

Of Kings and Queens  
The Deep Roads

It had been three days since they’d left Orzammar and Alistair could see why the Wardens hated the Deep roads so much. I was hot, dirty, smelly, with no air moving at all, darkspawn around every corner. His senses hadn’t calmed since he’d passed through the gates into this hellhole and wouldn’t for a while yet.  
He looked over to where Sarina stood, conferring with Oghren over a map. She’d recruited him in Orzammar, the ex-husband of the missing Paragon, Branka. A disgusting, drunken sot, he’d been the only one with information on Branka’s possible location so they had taken him along.  
In the weeks since that night in Redcliffe, they had been inseparable, causing more than one person to comment on their obvious obsession with each other. He didn’t care, he was the happiest man in Thedas and they could all hang as far as he was concerned. He couldn’t get enough of her, taking her wherever they could find a secluded spot and enough time, something they never had enough of.  
For her part Sarina had the look of a woman well loved. She’d taken to wearing her hair down more, for practicality as much as anything; “He’d just take it down anyway,” she thought, smiling to herself. So she braided it and threw it over her shoulder, making Alistair smile. What few private moments they had were spent together, loving with an urgency that never seemed to dim, then collapsing in each other’s arms, spent and fulfilled.  
Two weeks later they had emerged from the trip, dirty and exhausted, bearing a crown for Orzammar’s next king, Harrowmont, and troops for their cause. Alistair swore he’d never return until his calling, and maybe not even then. They returned to Redcliffe to report their success and rest for their final leg and task, the Dalish elves. 

Brecilian Forest

Eamon was concerned about troop movement throughout the country so they stayed not long in Redcliffe much to everyone’s disappointment, especially Alistair’s. He had arranged with Leliana and Zevran’s help to get an entire day and night alone with Sarina only to be told to leave before it happened. “It’s all right,” she had said, “We will get our time.” Practical to the last, he thought.  
The Dalish would prove to be the easiest to convince but the hardest to find. They wandered in the Brecilian forest for a week before finding any sign, coming upon them merely by chance. Sarina had taken Alistair, Zevran and Wynne with her to meet their Keeper, Zathrian. The group had been attacked by a pack of werewolves and many hunters had been killed or were sick. Zathrian had asked that they kill the leader of the werewolf group, a wolf named Witherfang, and in return, he would honor the treaty his people had signed. Wynne had pitched in to ease the suffering of many, but she confided in Alistair and Sarina that she felt a dark presence at work, something evil. They kept their guard up constantly.  
They had tracked Witherfang to an ancient ruin that looked Tevinter in origin but had many signs of elven occupation centuries before. They had searched the area, finally discovering the werewolves’ lair. They were being led by a spirit the werewolves called the Lady of the Forest, who was not like any spirit Wynne had ever encountered. The Lady had convinced them to bring Zathrian to her for a parley so they did, with great difficulty and convincing.  
Zathrian, she told them, had created her and bound her to a wolf causing the curse that inflicted his people and so many others. His desire for revenge had been so great that he was destroying the very people he wanted to protect. Sarina had convinced him that his time was done and the curse needed to end. The Lady had asked for release and it was finally granted at the cost of Zathrian’s life. The new Keeper, Lanaya, had granted them their troops, fulfilling the treaty. With the last of their negotiations complete, they headed back to Redcliffe to prepare for the Landsmeet.  
Walking along the paths, no one was in a hurry this time, their obligations finished for now. It was pleasant to just walk in the peace of the trees and hear the wind brushing the branches and the grass waving. Alistair thought he could stay there forever, it was whispering to him of happiness and love, something he hadn’t known before Sarina and wanted to know more.  
Yet his heart was disquiet and he spent much time in thought, the Landsmeet was approaching too fast and the likelihood he would be king was great. He worried what that might mean for Sarina and him. He couldn’t bring himself to let her go if he had to.  
“Alistair? What is it?” Sarina asked him. She’d come up from behind him, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Are you okay?”  
Alistair smiled and put his arm around her, “No worries, love,” he said.  
“Then what are you thinking about?” she asked.  
“You.”  
“Oh. Good I hope?”  
“Always, love. Always,” he answered, not able to tell her his fears were pressing in on him.  
Sarina smiled at him and asked, “Like what, exactly?”  
“I was thinking that I would like to take you right over there and keep you until I was through, which would be never. Good enough?” He pointed to a small grassy meadow to his right.  
“Ooooo. I think I’d like that. We have the time now,” she said, licking her lips and tempting him.  
He grabbed her hand and pulled her away, heading straight to the spot he’d pointed, telling the others, “Make camp. Over there,” and pointed in the opposite direction.  
“Again?” Wynne complained. “I would think they would be sore and raw by now. We have four hours of daylight left to travel.”  
“Perhaps we should join them? I saw a spot over there that would be a most comfortable place to get to know each other better,” Zevran asked her seductively.  
“No. I am comfortable enough, thank you. How about a game of cards instead?” she suggested.  
“As you wish, my dear, but we are missing out on something very special as our Grey Wardens have discovered,” and he pulled out the cards.  
Sometime later, Alistair lay in the sunny grass, holding Sarina, both content and sated, for the time being. Sarina stroked his chest softly. “What are you thinking about now?” she asked quietly. “Me again?”  
“Of course I am thinking of you,” he paused then added, “and the Landsmeet.”  
She lifted her head and looked at him, worry etched on her face, “It’s bothering you.”  
“I…yes it is.,” he said, “I worry what it means…to us.”  
The thought was not a new one to Sarina either. “Alistair, where do see us in the future?”  
Alistair sat up and looked at her, “I don’t know. Eamon wants to make me king at the Landsmeet. I can’t refuse even if I don’t want it,” he waited then spoke again, “I don’t know what that will mean for us. I’m…scared to think about it.”  
Sarina reached out and smoothed his worried brow with her finger, causing him to shudder and close his eyes. “Whatever happens, I won’t leave you, no matter what,” she promised.  
“I love you so,” he replied, choking up, “Love me?” And she did.

The Landsmeet

The days passed so quickly after that. The party made it to Redcliffe, spent one night, then was off to Denerim and the Landsmeet. Alistair spent little time with Sarina now as they were both involved in different aspects of the war effort; she in managing and recruiting the army while he tried to learn as much about governing a nation as he could. Only at night, together, could they find peace. Alistair feared it would always be this way.  
The group arrived at Eamon’s estate after a three day trek from Redcliffe. They had not been in residence for two hours before they were visited by Teryn Loghain and Arl Howe. Alistair cringed at the slimy Howe, noticing Sarina’s change in demeanor. The Teryn had come in person to ask for Eamon’s support for the war and his rule, but Eamon refused. Alistair was the rightful king and the Landsmeet would decide the matter. Sarina had confronted Howe about her family and vowed in front of witnesses that they would be avenged. Alistair was both proud and fearful for her.  
Their first task had been to sneak into the Arl of Denerim estate to rescue the supposedly imprisoned Queen Anora. Neither Sarina nor Alistair had actually believed Anora’s maid when she told them the story of how Anora was being held against her will, but Eamon had insisted that they check it out.  
Breaking in to the estate had been easy. The maid, Erlina, had provided them with guard uniforms and an entrance. Anora had been found, locked in her rooms, a spell cast on the door. They had been forced to search the dungeons for Howe and the mage responsible, coming across a Grey Warden prisoner by the name of Riordan. He had been captured by Howe and was held and tortured for information on the Wardens. They had set him free and continued their search for Howe and the mage.  
Alistair kept a close eye on Sarina during the search. He could sense the change in her as they came closer to their quarry. She would do anything to avenge her family and he had promised her the chance, but it would not come at the cost of her life too. He moved closer to her and stayed close.  
They found Howe in a lower chamber surrounded by a half dozen guards. He taunted Sarina, using her parents’ deaths at his hands as bait. She kept her cool, asking him why, looking for a reason to explain his hatred of her family. Eventually, Howe forced a confrontation, and Sarina had been the one to end his life.  
She stood over his body, closed her eyes, and spat on him, then, sheathing her sword, walked out of the room. Alistair followed.  
They were forced to battle their way out of the estate. The alarm had been raised with the escape of Riordan so troops were waiting for them at the doors. Alistair had Wynne and Zevran escort the queen and her maid out a side exit while he and Sarina kept the guards busy at the front entrance. Once they were sure that the others had made their escape, they surrendered. Ser Cauthrien took them into custody for holding. They were chained and their weapons and armor confiscated. The last thing he remembered was a pain in the back of his head then darkness.  
Alistair awoke in a small cell, dimly lit with torches high above. He stretched and shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs, “Sarina,” he thought, and looked to find her lying on the floor a few feet away as if she had been tossed there. He crawled to her side, checked her for wounds and found only a bump on the back on her head. He sat beside her, placed her head on his leg and brushed the hair out of her face. “Sarina?” he called, “Sarina, wake up love. Come on, please.”  
Sarina slowly began to return to consciousness, stirring and moaning, finally opening her eyes. She blinked twice, focusing on him, “Alistair?” she called.  
“I’m here, love. Shhhh…take it slow,” he crooned, helping her sit up. He held her face in his hands and checked her eyes, satisfied she was all right.  
“Where are we? Jail?” she asked.  
“I think we’re in Ft Drakon. That would make sense. We can’t have been out too long.”  
“What do we do now?” she asked.  
Alistair looked around the cell and out the bars, assessing their options. “What do you think?”  
“We could wait or break out.”  
“You have a plan, don’t you?” he noticed.  
Sarina smoothed her hair and slowly walked to the bars, “Watch and learn,” she said.  
The guard outside the cell was pacing back and forth in front of the door. Sarina called to him and he walked to her. “What do you want?” he barked.  
“I’m so lonely in here, could you come in and keep me company for a while?” she told him sweetly.  
“Well, I suppose I could,” he replied and unlocked the door.  
Sarina looked at Alistair and winked, smiling. When the door finally opened, the guard was greeted with Alistair’s right cross and Sarina’s kick to the groin, dropping him like a stone. She searched the body and found the key to the cell and unlocked it. “I really love you, you know,” Alistair told her admiringly.  
“I know,” she said, smiling. “Ready?”  
They worked their way through the cell block, eventually finding their weapons and armor locked in a chest. They reached the front of the fort only to run into Leliana and Morrigan, who were mounting a rescue attempt. With the additional help, they were able to make their way out of the fort and back to Eamon’s estate. That night they slept in a safe room in the cellar in case the guards came looking for them.  
Sarina was too quiet when they finally went to bed in their hideaway. She sat on the bed, legs drawn up, head down. Alistair came to sit by her. “Tell me,” he said quietly.  
She raised her head and he saw the pain in her eyes; the months of holding it in taking their toll. Tears began streaming down her cheeks and she collapsed in his arms, sobbing. He gathered her up and held her as she cried, smoothing her hair and crooning nonsense. Her heart had broken and he let her shed the pieces.  
When her tears were at last spent, she looked up into his eyes, “It is finished. Why do I feel so guilty? It’s as if I were responsible, not him.”  
Alistair brought his forehead down to touch hers, “What you are feeling is not guilt, love. It’s relief. You can grieve now, for your parents, your nephew, everyone who died. You have the ending to your search. It is time to start anew.”  
“Where do I start?”  
“With me,” he said.  
Sarina looked into his blue eyes and knew he was right. Alistair was the start; he would be king and she his queen, if he’d have her. “With you,” she replied, and took him home with her, again and again.

*****

There was trouble in the Alienage, as if there wasn’t enough already. There had been riots as the result of an attack on the old Arl of Denerim’s son and the resulting purge. The area had been on lockdown as ordered by Arl Howe and Teryn Loghain for months. Rumors of plague ran rampant.  
Eamon and Anora had suggested the Wardens go to the Alienage to check out the situation and determine whether it was related to their business at hand. Sarina took Alistair, Zevran and Leliana with her. As an elf, Zevran might be able to gain more information for them and Leliana was useful in any covert operation.  
They entered the area to find a group of elves protesting the fact that their relatives had been removed to a “hospice” located in an abandoned building in the center of the area. They quietly searched the outside of the building to find a rear entrance guarded by a single guard. A well placed bribe gained them entrance and they quickly took out the guards inside.  
Alistair located the cells at the back of the building where elves were being held. The markings on the uniforms of the guards were Tevinter and could only mean they were slavers. They released the elves and tracked the remaining guards to their hideout in the back of the Alienage. They were led by a Tevinter mage named Caladrius, who seemed as willing to deal with them as anyone else.  
Zevran spat at the man and Alistair was disgusted. Sarina simply said, “No deals,” and after a tough battle, he had been defeated and the remaining elves freed. They made their way back to Eamon’s estate, more than enough proof in hand. With Anora’s testimony, the slaver’s records and proof of Howe’s activities on Loghain’s behalf, it was time to go to the Landsmeet and make their case.

*****

The Landsmeet was held in the grand chamber at the palace. Eamon went in early, telling Sarina and Alistair to wait and enter after a few minutes, to give him time to introduce their suit. They waited outside, then entered through the main doors. There they were met by Ser Cauthrien, Loghain’s lieutenant, sent to stop them from entering. Sarina had had enough fighting; Alistair would be known as a merciful king. With great skill, she convinced Cauthrien to back down, gaining them entrance.  
The nobles were intensively debating the suits of Alistair and Anora when they appeared. Loghain immediately jumped to the subject he felt most important, “Tell us, Wardens, how will the Orlesians take our country from us this time? Through this would-be prince? What did they offer as the price of Ferelden honor?”  
Sarina spoke up loud and clear so everyone would hear, “I am not the one who betrayed Ferelden!”  
Lord Bryland questioned why Loghain had not be more forth coming about what happened at Ostagar, but Loghain was on the offensive, “One of Cailan’s killers speaks of betrayal? You led him to death with tales of griffons and battle.”  
‘You sold Ferelden citizens into slavery to fund your war,” Sarina countered.  
Ban Sighard was outraged, “There is no slavery in Ferelden! Explain!”  
Loghain continued his offensive, “The Alienage is in ruins, it will not stand if the Blight comes here. I have done my duty for the good of Ferelden.”  
“And sending an apostate mage to poison Arl Eamon was your duty as well?” added Sarina.  
“If I were to send anyone to kill someone it would be my own troops.”  
Bann Alfstanna was incensed; her Templar brother had been held captive by Howe in his dungeon, put there to keep him quiet about Jowan and Loghain’s involvement. The Grand cleric vowed to bring the matter before an ecclesiastical court.  
Loghain became apologetic, “I admit there may have been a misunderstanding, but that does not excuse the crimes perpetrated by this Warden and Alistair.”  
Sarina looked at Alistair, who shrugged and nodded, they had played their cards. “We are discussing your crimes here,” she said.  
“And what of my daughter? What have you done to her that she is not here to speak for herself? Does she even live?” Loghain asked angrily.  
With the timing of an actress on the stage, Anora appeared, “I believe I can speak for myself. This Warden has defamed my father and slandered his name. She desires to put an imposter on Ferelden’s throne. My father would only do his utmost to save his country. You have only proven yourself an enemy of this country.”  
Loghain continued for her, “Anora has ruled the country well for five years; all we know of Alistair is that he may have royal blood. Anora can lead us through this crisis and I will lead her armies.”  
There followed a roll call of the banns. South Reach, Waking Sea, and Dragon’s Peak were in support of Alistair, but Arl Wulff, Ceorlic, and several other nobles stood with Loghain. They were outnumbered. There was only one choice.  
Sarina spoke up loudly and clearly so as everyone in the room would hear, “Then Alistair challenges you to a duel, the winner will lead Ferelden.”  
Alistair had been content to stand back and let her speak but not this time. He grabbed her arm and turned her towards him, “Are you crazy? I can’t fight her!”  
“You won’t have to. Loghain will champion her,” she explained.  
“Oh, like that is any better!”  
“I will champion you,” she said.  
‘What!” he hissed, “No! I will not have you fight my battles for me,” he ordered.  
Sarina looked at him; he was so scared for her right now and she loved him for it, “You can’t do this Alistair. You must stay alive to rule, to stop the Blight. You know I’m right. Please!”  
Alistair knew she was right, and he needed to kiss her so badly now; he was that scared. “I know,” he said softly, “but if you get killed I will not forgive you and I will kill him.”  
“I love you,” she said.  
“I know. Just do it,” he replied, annoyed.  
Sarina and Loghain faced each other and circled, looking for an opening to strike. He made the first move and she evaded, darting in and out, forcing him to expend energy more and more. She struck with her sword and dagger, always keeping out of his way. Finally, he relented, giving in to her superior tactics and strength, dropping his sword and surrendering.  
Sarina accepted his surrender and was about to pronounce judgment when Riordan entered with an offer to make Loghain a warden. They needed more help and he was a great warrior and an asset to take advantage of.  
“No!” Alistair was furious. “He murdered our brothers and our king, enslaved our people, imprisoned and tortured you, and you want to make him a Warden? Absolutely not!”  
Riordan was right but Sarina knew what had to be done, “Loghain must pay for his crimes, Riordan. This is not some common criminal here. A whole country’s future has been altered due to what he has done. No, he must die.”  
“Very well, Warden. I abide by your judgment here,” agreed Eamon.  
“Alistair should be the one to do this,” she said. He looked at her, a doubtful look in his eyes. “Show them you are the one,” she whispered to him.  
“I owe this to Duncan,” he declared, then drew his sword and Loghain was dead.  
Eamon took charge of the group immediately, “Then it is settled, Alistair will take his father’s throne.”  
Alistair panicked, “Since when did that get decided?”  
Anora, who had been kneeling over her father’s lifeless body, stood and faced the group.  
“He refuses the throne. Everyone has heard him.”  
Eamon retaliated, “You are not the one to decide this. Warden, if you will be the arbiter in this matter?”  
Sarina nodded her agreement and thought. She gauged both candidates’ strengths and weaknesses. “Alistair, are you ready to be king?” she asked bluntly.  
He paused to form his words, “As ready as anyone is I suppose.”  
“Why are you the better choice?”  
“I can do this, Sarina; you know I can. I understand what we are up against and can get us on the path to fighting the Blight. She only wants the power.”  
“Are you willing to give up your freedom?” she asked.  
“If it ends the Blight, then that is the price I pay as a Grey Warden,” he answered.  
Sarina nodded to him then to Anora as she walked to the front of the chamber. “I am ready,” she announced.  
Eamon looked at her, “What is your decision?”  
“Alistair will rule and I will rule beside him.”  
The ceiling of the building could have fallen on him at that moment and Alistair would not have been more surprised. “You…you will?” he stammered out. Sarina nodded.  
“I will not abide by this decision,” said an outraged Anora, “And I will not swear fealty to him either.”  
Eamon looked at Alistair for a resolution, “The country cannot continue in a state of chaos.”  
“Put her in the tower for now. If I fall in battle she can have her throne,” his declared, his voice shaking. Guards came forward and took her away.  
“Your highness, will you address the Landsmeet?” asked Eamon.  
“Oh, yeah that’s me…My father had a commitment to protect this land. But I am a Grey Warden too and as such I must defend Ferelden against the force of the Blight that threatens our home.” The crowd applauded and he continued, “Until I can return to take up my duties as your ruler, I think that Arl Eamon will be my regent. And I would ask my fellow Grey Warden to take her place at the head of my armies.”  
Sarina smiled and nodded, “I can do no less, my king.”  
Alistair faced the crowd, “Everyone get ready to march. It will take all our strength to survive this blight.”  
And he was king.

*****

Three days later, Alistair walked from his new quarters in the palace to the guest quarters nearby. He had bathed, shaved and given in to Leliana’s choice for his clothes. “A little frilly, but comfortable,” he thought. Tomorrow they would leave for Redcliffe and the army but he had one bit of business to settle before he left. He reached into his pocket to check if it was still there, and it was. He stood in front of her door, took a deep breath and knocked.  
Sarina met him at the door. Her auburn hair was piled on her head and intertwined with ribbons. She was wearing a dark blue dress with gold trim that showed off her shoulders and back and looked as if she had been poured into it. She had never looked lovelier and he was speechless.  
She noticed his approving look and blushed as she smiled, reaching for a shawl from the chair by the door. “I’m ready,” she said.  
“Oh…then let’s go,” he stuttered, offering her his arm; she took it and they were off.  
“So what is this surprise you have planned?” she asked.  
Alistair smiled and took her hand and kissed it. “Now if I tell you, then it sort of ruins it, doesn’t it?” He smiled at her frown.  
He walked her down the stairs and out a side door into the outside gardens. They continued on to the rear of the garden, where a small walled area was located. Alistair took a key from his pocket, opened a gate and swung it open. He walked through the door, pulling her along.  
Inside the walls was the most beautiful little rose garden she had ever seen. In full bloom as the weather was warm, it was a riot of color and scent that overwhelmed the senses. Sarina had never seen anything like it and she was entranced.  
“How did you find it?” she asked, stunned.  
Alistair found a bench and sat down, patting the place next to him. She sat down. “The chamberlain told me about it. He asked if the new queen would like to see her garden.”  
“Her garden?”  
“That’s what this is. The queen’s private garden, built years ago for the queen to have a place to call her own.”  
“It’s so beautiful! I just can’t believe it,” she exclaimed, and leaned over to kiss him.  
Alistair let her thank him properly then cleared his throat. “I wanted to talk to you about something and I thought this was the perfect place. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the package he’d gotten from Bodahn that morning. “I know that the Landsmeet settled so many things but I think that one thing hasn’t been.”  
Sarina looked worried, “What hasn’t been settled?”  
“Us,” he said.  
“What about us?” she asked, “Alistair, you have me worried now.”  
Alistair stood up and began pacing, “It’s supposed to be easier,” he thought. After a few trips back and forth he sat back down and took the lead, “Sarina, I love you.”  
Sarina smiled warmly, “I love you, too.”  
He took her hand and placed the little package in it. “I was wondering if you’d wear this for me.”  
She opened the paper wrapped parcel and took out the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. It was veridium, polished to shiny silver, with rosebuds engraved all around, a single ruby set in the top.  
Alistair took the ring and picked up her hand. “Sarina Cousland, would you marry me? I know it’s supposed to be settled but I wanted to ask you myself. Please say yes.”  
Tears formed in Sarina’s eyes as she looked at him. She had never thought to find anyone who would want her for anything other than her wealth, but here he was. “Yes, I will. Oh yes!”  
He took her finger and pushed the ring on then took her hand and kissed it. She threw her arms around him and kissed him as he deserved.  
Coming up for air, Alistair finished his speech, “I have another gift for you. All this,” he gestured around him, “is for you. An engagement present.”  
“The Queen’s garden?” she asked.  
“Well, you will be the queen, if all goes well. You should have this, it’s for you.”  
Sarina took his face in her hands and looked into his eyes, “It’s for us,” she said, and thanked him properly.

 

The Darkness Falls  
Denerim Palace

“We’re not through yet,” she cooed, “There is more…come to me. I need you.”  
“Yes,” he whispered, “More.” He took her and rolled her over, entering her. She moaned in pleasure at his touch, meeting his every stroke into her. “More,” he repeated.  
“Yes, my Grey Warden, there is more. Come to me,” she murmured, “It is time...”  
Alistair sat up in bed, his heart racing, panting loudly, eyes glazed over and his body bathed in sweat. Sarina jumped at his sudden movement looking for its cause. Finding nothing, she asked, “Alistair? What is it?”  
He brought his hand to his face and wiped his brow, then turned and sat up, his feet hanging over the side of the bed. All at once, he rose and ran to the chamber pot in the corner and vomited. Sarina was by his side in instant. “Alistair, tell me what’s wrong,” she pleaded.  
Alistair coughed, put his hand on her shoulder and nodded. She went to the bed and picked up their robes, helping him into his. “Whiskey first,” he said and walked into the outer room. She nodded and followed.  
He poured himself a generous helping and downed it fast, Sarina watched him, concerned. He drank, but always ale or beer, not whiskey. Something was terribly wrong. She turned his face to look at her and saw something in his eyes that made her start. She recovered and said, “Tell me.”  
“It’s still happening,” he told her. “She’s still there, calling to me, wanting me. I can’t…” he trailed off, hanging his head.  
Sarina nodded and looked toward the dark night sky in the window. This was something she couldn’t fix, and the knowledge of that terrified her. “Is it…the Calling?” she asked gently.  
He poured another glass of whiskey, and sipped it slowly, “If it is, it’s a damn strange way to get it,” he said. “But why only at night?”  
“We’ve sent letters to everyone we could think of, asking for opinions, they all say that’s what it could be. No one can explain why it happens only at night.” She put her arms around him, soothing herself as much as him. He put down his glass and wrapped his arms around her. “I want to help you and I can’t,” she told him, tears in her eyes.  
He looked down at her, “You are, love, you are. No one else understands.”  
“Is there anything else to do?”  
He looked at her, desperate in his demeanor, “Love me, Sarina. Maker, please love me hard!” He took her mouth roughly, pulling open her robe with his hand. She responded to his plea, pulling the cord and pushing his robe off his shoulders.  
He took her there, hard and fast, then again and again until the darkness passed and he was at peace for a while.

 

Love and the Loss of Innocence  
Redcliffe Castle

Alistair and Sarina, Sten and Leliana arrived in Redcliffe to find it deserted. Walking down the hill into the village, Alistair and Sarina both stopped and looked at each other, their senses tingling, causing Leliana to ask, “What is it?”  
Sten knew immediately, “Prepare yourself, they are coming,” and drew his sword.  
The village was overrun with Darkspawn. Fortunately there were no villagers in sight and Alistair hoped they had fled to the castle or the countryside. He drew his sword.  
Sarina and Leliana took positions with their bows at the top of the hill, raining arrows on any spawn that rushed their position. Alistair and Sten stayed at the front, hitting any who got through. The group slowly worked their way to the castle gates, finding them open to attack from the outside. After a heated battle in the castle bailey, they were met by a guard who took them inside where Eamon and Teagan were waiting for them with Riordan.  
Riordan told them the Darkspawn horde was headed for Denerim, not Redcliffe as they had thought. He recommended that they march as soon as possible to meet the horde. The orders were given and the army prepared to march in the morning. Alistair and Sarina went to meet with Riordan before they were shown to their rooms for much needed rest.  
They met in the upstairs room that been assigned to Riordan as per his status as a Grey Warden. He met them at the door, closed it and threw the bolt.  
“I have to ask,” he said, “had Duncan told either of you anything about how an Archdemon is killed?”  
“There’s more than just chopping off its head?” asked Alistair.  
Riordan sighed, “Then he did not. I had hoped…Did you ever wonder why Grey Wardens are needed to defeat the Darkspawn?”  
“I suppose it has to do with the taint in us?” Sarina answered.  
Riordan continued, “Exactly so. The Archdemon may be slain but if anyone other than a Grey Warden were to strike the killing blow, it would not be enough.”  
Sarina eyes became large and she looked at Alistair before replying, “What happens to the Grey Warden?”  
Riordan paused, finding the words, “The Archdemon is an empty soulless vessel and the Grey Warden is not. The essence of the Archdemon travels to the Warden and is destroyed.”  
Alistair looked at Riordan, a stunned look on his face, “The Grey Warden who kills the Archdemon dies?”  
“Yes. Without the Archdemon, the Blight ends. It is the only way.”  
“Then I will take the final blow myself,” declared Sarina. Alistair’s heart wrenched to hear her say it. He knew she would.  
Riordan smiled at her courage, “Would we all had such courage,” he thought. “I am warmed to hear such from you, my sister, but I would not have you sacrifice yourself. The blow should be mine. As the eldest, the taint will not spare me much longer. But enough of such talk, there is time to decide this in the morning. Get some rest.”  
Alistair walked to the door, “Then I shall see you in the morning when the army is ready to march. This will be over one way or another.” He looked to Sarina, “Coming?  
“In a bit,” she said, nodding.  
“I need some air first,” he told her and left the room.

*****

Alistair was in a state of shock as he walked through the garden, alone. She had said she would strike the blow herself. He could not, would not allow it. Life without her was unbearable even for a day, forever would be impossible. It could not happen.  
He wandered to the back wall, remembering that last time he had been here with her. He had needed her so much he couldn’t wait until they had gotten to a bed and had taken her here. The memory assailed him like a storm, overwhelming him with emotion and sensation. He would take her now if she were here just to recapture the feeling and banish the anguish. She couldn’t die, he would not allow it. He mustn’t. He pounded his fists on the wall.  
His thoughts were disturbed by the sound of approaching footsteps. He recognized the sound and turned to meet the new arrival with disdain. “So it is you,” he spat.  
“It is,” said Morrigan. “You’d best be careful.”  
“I suppose that’s true. We can go to Denerim but they just won’t let us walk right in. Just a hunch.”  
“Most men your age are preoccupied with knowing the time of their death, yet you already know.”  
Alistair sneered at that, “Funny. Such wit from such a beautiful woman. I’ll go cry myself to sleep now.”  
Morrigan stepped closer, her face intent, “What if Riordan is not there to strike the killing blow? Do you run away?”  
There is no way to know what will happen tomorrow. We could both die before we even get close.”  
“And yet you still intend to succeed, do you not?” she pointed out, “It is what you do.”  
Alistair’s eyes narrowed at her, and he turned and walked to the door, “I’ve had enough of this. I’m going to get some rest.”  
Morrigan paused, “You love her,” she said softly.  
He stopped and slowly turned to face her, his anger growing, “Surprised? Does it even matter to you? “Do you care what anyone thinks?” Morrigan hung her head in a shameful gesture that did not fool him. “No? I thought not. I’d be happy if you cared about one person other than yourself. With you, who needs Darkspawn.”  
Morrigan kept her head bowed, searching for the words to convince him. “I…care,” she said.  
“Right. This is where you say you’ve never had a friend your entire life.”  
“Only one…” she replied as he walked to the door in disgust. “Alistair? If I could something terrible to aid you tomorrow, should I?”  
He turned and looked at her, shocked she would even offer, “I suppose we could use all the help we could get,” he answered, and left her.

*****

Sarina had been puzzled as to Alistair’s behavior after the meeting with Riordan. Usually so anxious to be alone with her, he had instead opted for a walk outdoors. She had to admit the prospect sounded nice, but she was tired and had much to consider before morning. She stayed for a while and talked to Riordan about small things then headed to her bed chamber and Alistair.  
She entered her room to find not her love, but Morrigan, warming herself by the fire.  
“Morrigan, is everything all right?” she asked, concerned.  
Morrigan turned to face her, “I am well; it is you who are in danger. I know what happens when the Archdemon dies.”  
Sarina was astounded, “What do you mean?”  
“I have a plan, a way out, the loop in your hole. One that insures no Grey Warden need die tomorrow.”  
“What kind of plan?” Sarina asked.  
“A ritual performed on the eve of battle, old magic from the time before the Circle of Magi. Blood magic they might say, but it is more. Hear me out,” Morrigan asked.  
“Tell me.”  
“I would ask you this: convince Alistair to lie with me here, tonight. From this ritual, a child will be conceived.”  
Sarina was beside herself, “What happens to the child?”  
“The child will bear the taint and when the Archdemon is slain, will draw the essence of the beast into it, not to kill but to be reborn as an old god. No Grey Warden will die.” Morrigan sat down on the bed and continued, “Afterward, you allow me to walk away. You never follow and I raise the child as I wish.”  
“How do you know this will work?”  
Morrigan smiled, “It is what Flemeth intended from the first. You did not wonder why she saved you? It will work.”  
Sarina frowned at the woman, ‘You think he will agree to this?”  
Morrigan stood, and looked her friend in the eye, “If you love him as I know he loves you, you will convince him. Consider the alternative, you die and he lives without you or you without him.”  
“Why not Riordan?”  
“I need someone younger, someone not tainted for long. He is unsuitable.”  
Sarina considered the possibilities before her. She could not allow Alistair to take the blow. He was king and Ferelden would need him, especially now. She was expendable, he was not. She turned and gave her answer, “I will do it.”  
“Wise. I will wait here while you talk to Alistair.”

*****

Sarina left her room and Morrigan. She wandered down the hall toward Alistair’s room in a daze. Suddenly the tears began to fall so she ducked into a closet at the end of the hall and let them spill. How was she to convince him? What if he said no?  
She gained control of her emotions, set in her path. This was a different kind of battle, one which she was not used to fighting, but one that was winnable. She wiped her eyes on her sleeves and went to meet the foe.  
Alistair had returned to his room for a while, not able to face Sarina yet. He had to think and this was as good a place as any. There came a knock at the door and Sarina entered; she’d been crying. He crossed the room to her and took her in his arms. She held on to him, hard, as he did her. “Can’t sleep?” he asked quietly, “I saw Morrigan outside your room, is something wrong?”  
Sarina pulled back from him, head bowed. “She told me something important.”  
He smiled, “That’s what I get for being king. What is it? Cheese supplies running low? Rats running amok? I can take it.”  
“I love you, you know that, right?”  
His face fell and his gaze became intense, “It is serious, please tell me.”  
Sarina turned and began to pace as he did when worried, “I don’t think I can do this,” she whispered.  
Alistair reached out and stopped her, bringing her to stand before him, his hand raising her face to look at him, “Sarina, you are making me nervous, tell me.”  
She took a deep breathe, “What if I told you there was a way to avoid dying tomorrow?”  
‘With the Archdemon, right?” He answered, “If you mean running away, I can’t do that, but you already know. What is it?”  
‘I need you to take part in a magic ritual.”  
Alistair chuckled, “Oh, something Morrigan cooked up? What does she want me to do?”  
Sarina hesitated, trying to form the words she dreaded to say with all her being. Words she could not utter to his face. She turned away saying softly, “You need to sleep with her.”  
A look of shock crossed Alistair’s face and he turned and walked to the bed. He turned back around to face her, a smile on his face, laughing at her request. “Oh, cute. This is payback for all the jokes,” he laughed harder until he looked at her. Tears were streaming down her face. Whatever she was asking hurt her, and he wasn’t helping. “You aren’t joking. Wow! Get killed by the Archdemon or sleep with Morrigan. How do I make that choice?”  
Alistair began to pace, back and forth, his hands running through his hair as Sarina stood and watched. “You can’t be asking me this. What is this ritual supposed to do?”  
“It will produce a child,” she said softly, looking at the floor.  
He stopped dead and stared at her like he was seeing something horrible, ‘WHAT!” he yelled. “I can’t have heard that, not from you. I’m supposed to impregnate Morrigan in a magical sex ritual and you are asking me to do it?” he paused and caught his breath, sensing her fear, “What does she want with this child?”  
“She wouldn’t say.”  
“Big surprise there,” he said sarcastically. He turned to her as she stood there, her eyes on the floor, too ashamed and scared to look at him, “Is this truly what you want me to do?” he asked softly.  
Sarina swallowed her pride and said the words. She was throwing him away, into the arms of another woman, and he may not come back to her. She raised her head, “You need to trust me.”  
Alistair looked in her eyes and saw the fear. She wanted him to do this, he had no doubt, but there was more and he knew she’d never tell him now. He took her in his arms and kissed her, all the anguish, fear and anxiety spilling out of both them. When they finally broke apart, he looked at her and said, “All right. Let’s get this over with.”

*****

They walked down the hall and back to Sarina’s room. Alistair stopped by the door and looked at Sarina for confidence. She nodded and they opened the door.  
Morrigan was standing by the fire, where Sarina had left her. She turned and faced them meeting them halfway. “I take it your talk is finished?”  
Alistair was unimpressed, “Great, this isn’t a dream after all.”  
Sarina cleared her throat and took a small step forward in front of Alistair. “Alistair has agreed to your request,” she said, her voice quavering.  
“Wait, I want to ask about this child, the one you want,” he asked.  
Morrigan smiled, “Honesty wouldn’t have been my first choice.”  
Alistair continued, “I want to know that you aren’t going to use this against Ferelden. That this bastard child of mine won’t show up some year…”  
‘Of that you have my word,” said Morrigan.  
Alistair looked at Sarina, who had managed to make her face impassive for the moment. He turned to Morrigan, “Why don’t I feel good about this? All right, let’s…get this over with.”  
An evil smile spread across Morrigan’s lips as she contemplated the outcome of the evening’s work ahead of her. “Let us go somewhere more private, Alistair,” as she slinked past Sarina toward the door, “Believe me when I say you will not hate this near as much as you believe.”  
Alistair hesitated, turning to look at Sarina, praying she would stop him. She gave him a slight nod of encouragement and watched him follow Morrigan out the door, shutting it behind him.  
Sarina stood alone, looking after him, then crumpled to the floor, sobbing.

****

Morrigan led him to a bedroom in another less crowded part of the castle. She had prepared the room with candles and scents to tantalize his senses. A table with food and drink was set up against one wall, and a bath was ready in the corner with water heating on the fire. She had thought of everything.  
Alistair entered the room cautiously, causing her to laugh quietly at his suspicion. She smiled and turned to him, her amber eyes shining, “We may begin whenever you are ready,” she said.  
Alistair took one last look around then sat down on the bed and removed his boots, carefully setting them beside the bed. He took his dagger and slipped it into one of his boots as a precaution, then removed his clothing and covered himself with a sheet. Morrigan did the same on the opposite side of the bed, then turned to face him. “Come here to me,” she crooned.  
He turned toward her and took her in his arms, closing his eyes and pretending she was anyone else but who she was. She kissed, and stroked him as no one had before; causing sensations he had never felt. It seemed he had left his body to watch, so detached he became. Morrigan continued her ministrations and he became more and more detached until he cared not what happened. She could do what she wanted, he would not.  
Soon she became aware that he was not cooperating as she had hoped and began anew, using all her wiles to entice him into taking her. But he would not. Eventually he said, “Enough! I…can’t do this. Not to her. I don’t care why,” and got up to dress.  
“Now, now my Grey Warden, there is time and you have not given it much chance, have you?” Her voice dripped like honey, so smooth and slick, “Lie down and we shall begin anew. There is time.” She patted the bed and he sat back down, wary of her words but relaxing nonetheless.  
“Take a sip of this draught, an herbal elixir, it will relax you and help. I promise.” She held the vial out to him and he drank it. “Lie down and rest, it will soon work. You shall see.”  
Alistair lay back down on the bed and closed his eyes. He began to relax, feeling more comfortable than he ever had. He heard the bolt on the door being shot back and the door opening then closing. He drifted off to sleep, content.  
He knew she was there. Her sound, her scent told him she was there. “Sarina,” he called and she joined him. He took her to bed and loved her, over and over. She was his lover; soon his wife and she possessed his soul. He gave it freely.  
“I need more,” she asked him, and took him again. “More,” he murmured. Finally, he finished and collapsed on the bed. He reached for her and found Morrigan in her place.  
“You have done well, my love. Just one more thing,” Morrigan told him.  
Alistair stared at her, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, trying to remember where he was, what he’d done. “Sarina,” he thought. “What have I done?”  
He pushed Morrigan away and got off the bed, standing by the side, staring at her. “What have you done with her?” he demanded, “Where is she?”  
“There is no one here but me, my Grey Warden. Come now, let us finish,” she told him, patting the bed for him.  
Alistair blinked and knew what she had done; she had taken his most sacred and prized possession, Sarina, and used her against him for her own purposes. “Maker! What have I done!” he cried and covered his face in his hands.  
Morrigan rose from the bed, coming to stand in front of him. She took his hands from his face and looked at him, “What you had to do,” she said. “It is your destiny.” She put her arms around his neck to draw him in for a kiss.  
She never saw the dagger until it was too late, he had moved so fast. Alistair held her by her hair, his dagger held across her throat, daring her to try something. She held up her hands as he dispelled any magic she may have used on him. Slowly his mind cleared and he gained control of his senses. He lowered his dagger and slapped her, causing her to fall back down on the bed. He reached for his breeches and shirt, putting them on.  
“Alistair, please, we must finish,” she pleaded, wiping the blood from her mouth, “You need this.”  
“We are done here,” he said, coming forward and putting his dagger to her throat again, “If you come near her, I will kill you. For her sake I will not tonight.” He took his boots and left, slamming the door behind him, leaving her.  
He stopped long enough to put on his boots then walked swiftly down the hall and out the door that led to the bailey. He had walked but a few steps when the nausea hit him and he gagged, heading for the wall, where he emptied his stomach. Tears formed in his eyes and he closed them tight trying to shut out the visions of what she had done and what he had done with her. The anger and guilt became too much and he hit the wall with his fist, using the pain to center him, to bring him back to himself. “Why?” he thought furiously, cradling his hand, “What do I do?”  
He stood up slowly and walked into the castle. He found a servant in the hallway, “Get me a bath,” he commanded angrily, “Now!” The servant rushed to meet his demand and a bath was set up in a room nearby. He undressed and sniffed at his clothes, still smelling her scent, and tossed them into the fire. “Get me a robe!” he ordered the servant, who rushed to do his bidding. He scrubbed and scrubbed everywhere she had touched until he was raw, his thoughts racing back to that room, to what he’d done, and with whom.  
The servant returned and quietly placed the robe on a chair by the tub. He backed up to the door, waiting for more orders. “I need a drink,” Alistair told the man, who turned quickly to leave, “Whiskey.” The man returned shortly with a bottle and glass and set them on the chair. “Enough,” Alistair said, and the man left. He picked up the bottle and drew the cork, drinking deeply then coughing as it burned down his throat. He sat in the water, soaking away his sin, looking for perspective. When it wouldn’t come, he drank and stared at the fire. Finally, he dried himself, put on the robe, went to his room, dressed and went to find her.  
Alistair looked in her room and she was gone, her armor, swords and bow left behind. He searched the library, kitchens, hall, stables, and gardens with no sign of her. As he walked back upstairs to start again he chanced upon a guard standing by the door to the upstairs battlements. Eamon had ordered the door guarded to keep anyone from going up, a measure against spies. The man was about thirty-five, with hair greying at the temples. “Have you seen the Lady Sarina?” he asked the man.  
“Well, sire, I did, but was told not to tell you,” the man explained. “But I feel I must. She is on the battlements sire, and I worry for her as it has started raining and the wind howls up there something fierce.”  
He looked at the guard, puzzled, “Thank you,” Alistair said, “I will keep this between us.”  
“Thank you, sire. I understand. I was married once myself.”  
Alistair smiled slightly at the man and nodded, turning to open the door. “Here sire, you might need this,” said the man and handed him his cloak.  
He took the offering and asked, “What is your name?”  
The man straightened and replied, “Martin, sire. Martin of Redcliffe.”  
Alistair studied the man, then spoke, “How would you like to work for me, Martin?”  
“You, sire? Yes, very much,” answered the excited Martin.  
“Good. I need a man like you near me. When all this business is over, report to me in the palace at Denerim,” Alistair told him.  
Martin grinned from ear to ear, “Thank you sire, I’ll do that. Thank you.”  
“Thank you, Martin,” Alistair said, smiling and patting him on the shoulder. He went up the stairs.  
The sky was darker than anything he’d ever seen. He found he could not see anything so he closed his eyes and cleared his mind. Slowly he felt the familiar tingle, faint but there. He followed the sense as it became stronger, walking slowly across the stones, peering into the darkness for anything.  
She was curled up in a corner of the battlements, her legs drawn up, cold, damp, and shivering. He knelt beside her, smoothing the wet hair from her face. She raised her head, opened her eyes and looked at him, then went down before him on her knees, crying, “Alistair, please forgive me! I didn’t want to do it. Please forgive me, I love you!” she begged, “I’m so sorry but I wanted you to live! Please forgive me!” She sobbed uncontrollably.  
Alistair stood up and looked at her, amazed. She begged him for forgiveness, he, who had hurt her. It was unbearable. He reached down and picked her up by her shoulders to face him. “There will always be one person who will never bow down to the King of Ferelden as long as I am king, his queen. No, I will not forgive you, Sarina. There is nothing to forgive. It is I who must ask for your forgiveness instead, for it is I who hurt you and brought you to this.” He gathered her up and wrapped her in Martin’s cloak, holding her while they both cried.  
He picked her up and carried her down the steps to her room, stopping long enough to ask for a hot bath to be brought. He sat her near the fire and took off her wet clothes, wrapping her in blankets while the bath was prepared, then he dismissed the servants and placed her in the hot water.  
Sarina slowly came to her senses in the water, shivering and began to cry again as Alistair washed her. When he was done, he dried her and carried her to the bed, taking off his clothes and getting in with her. “I need to hold you, love. I need to know you are really here with me.” She nodded and held him close, chasing the demons away, if only for a while.

 

More Than Love  
The Final Battle

Daylight slowly began to enter the windows of the room. Alistair stirred and pulled her closer, willing time to stop. She stirred and turned into him more, slowly opening her eyes and watching him, sensing his emotions. There was pain there, and deep suffering, things she had never seen in him before. Whatever had happened last night had changed him, forever.  
He opened his eyes to see her studying him and used his Warden sense to gauge her mood. He’d found he could sense what she felt as she could sense him, a useful tool in a complicated relationship. He felt sadness, worry, and compassion, but, thankfully, no guilt. “A happy thing,” he thought, “Her guilt I could not bear.”  
His hand reached out slowly, tentatively, to touch her cheek and she closed her eyes, feeling his fear. “He’s afraid,” she thought, “Kiss me,” but he just caressed her face, moving to her hair, winding it around his fingers, his eyes never leaving her face, memorizing her.  
Just as she could bear it no longer, he kissed her, a slow, scared kind of kiss, like the first one had been. She let him take the lead and he kept the touch of their lips light, as if he were trying to decide what to do, whether to continue. He suddenly gasped and cried out, taking her lips hard, searching for something he desperately needed that only she could give him. Sarina opened to him, letting him drain her strength to heal his injured soul. He moved over her body with his lips, kissing and tasting her, trying to prove to himself that it was really her and not the dark one.  
She spread her legs to let him in and he stopped, not able to go on. “Not now,” he thought, “Not that way,” and the pain returned. He laid his head on her chest and wept silently, her hands stroking his hair. At last he slept again, safe in her arms.  
He awoke later to a knocking on the door. A servant called out, “My lady, we have your armor for you. The Arl requests your presence.”  
Sarina looked at Alistair and smiled slightly, then answered back, “Thank you. Have his majesty’s armor brought here as well. And tell the Arl we shall be down presently.”  
There was a pause, then an answer, “Yes, my lady, as you wish,” and the sound of footsteps.  
Alistair lifted his head to look at her, questions in his gaze. She smiled at him, “It is just another day of battle, love. It should not be treated any differently.” He nodded and smiled his best Alistair smile, warming her heart.  
A knock on the door announced the return of the servants. Sarina rose and donned her robe, walked to the door and opened it. Three young elven servants carried in their armor and weapons, cleaned, polished and sharpened and placed them on the table and chairs. They bowed slightly and waited for their next task. “That will be all, thank you,” she said. The servants bowed and left, quietly shutting the door behind them.  
Sarina stood in the middle of the room, looking at the piles of armor and weapons, then turned to look at Alistair. He nodded and got out of the bed and walked to where she stood, taking her into his arms and holding her. “It’s time,” he said softly into her hair, and she nodded.  
They began to put on their armor, checking buckles and tabs for strength and tightness. She lifted his breast plate for him and seated it on his chest, buckling the buckles as he held it in place. She grabbed the top of the plate and tested it for fit. “Okay?” she asked him, he nodded. She bent down to check his greaves for tightness and seating, adjusting when it was needed.  
Alistair buckled her chest piece on and checked its fit, attaching her hood at the top. “Good?” he asked, and she nodded her agreement. They each took one last look to see that the other was ready then walked over to the table and picked up their gauntlets and his helmet. They turned to look at each other again and the thoughts they had kept at bay descended on them like a torrent. They dropped their things and threw themselves into the other’s arms, crying out, their mouths meeting in a last kiss. They pulled away slowly, their mouths lastly, looking into each other’s eyes. Alistair reached down to pick up the dropped gauntlets and helmet and handed Sarina hers. He turned and picked up her dagger and sword, handed them to her and she put them in their sheaths on her back. She handed him his sword and shield, and he strapped them on. Lastly, he handed her her bow and quiver and she took them.  
“I love you,” he said simply.  
“I love you,” she replied. And it was time to go.

*****

The march to Denerim took a day and a half. They arrived at the city gates and joined with the allied forces that already gathered there. Alistair and Sarina met quickly with the commanders of the mages, Dalish and dwarven forces and saw that they were all placed in areas where they were most needed. It was decided to attack the Darkspawn at the main city gate as it was the most accessible and was the best place to use as a base for future attacks. With their forces in place, the attack began just after noon.  
The three Grey Wardens held back during the first assault, acting as advisors, directing the commanders, and assisting with logistics. This had been Eamon’s idea and while not well received, especially by Alistair, it was understood and accepted. Their part was yet to come and they must survive to do it.  
By the end of the day, the city gates had fallen and the army had entered the city. The order to fall back was given, and the allies were told to hold their ground until daybreak when an all-out siege of the city would begin. Alistair and Sarina met with Riordan and their companions at the main gate to plan their next move.  
Riordan mapped out the strategy, “We’ve managed to fight our way to the gates but the army will not last much longer. We need to move quickly to reach the Archdemon.”  
“You have a plan, I assume?” asked Wynne.  
He looked at Sarina, “Take Alistair and two others into the city. Everyone else can remain here to prevent any Darkspawn from entering Denerim.”  
“So how do we stop a flying dragon?” asked Sarina.  
Riordan turned to look at the city skyline before answering, “The top of Ft Drakon would be perfect.”  
Alistair was incredulous, “The top of….? You want to draw the dragon’s attention?”  
Riordan placed his hand on Alistair’s shoulder; then spoke, “There is little choice, but as soon as it is engaged it will call all its generals to defend it. I sense two generals in Denerim at the moment. They need to be eliminated.”  
Leliana jumped on this, “If the generals were slain, it would stop the Darkspawn from doing a lot of harm.”  
Sarina looked at Alistair, who put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed, nodding his agreement, “I’m ready,” she said.  
Sarina chose Zevran and Wynne to accompany them, leaving Sten in charge at the gate. They stopped for a few minutes and said goodbyes to their companions and gave them last minute instructions before heading into the city. Alistair hugged Leliana and whispered something to her, causing her to tear up, then shook hands with the others, conveniently avoiding Morrigan.  
For her part, Morrigan was disappointed that she was not included in the group entering the city, but took it well, wishing Sarina happiness and glory and reminding her not to seek her out. Sarina thanked her for her contributions to the effort and wished her well, her eyes flitting to Alistair, who stood off to her side. Sarina had hugs for the others and a kiss for Zevran that rolled Alistair’s eyes and caused him to grab her hand and pull her away much to the amusement of everyone.  
They had said their farewells before so he took Sarina into his arms once more and kissed her, praying to the Maker it wasn’t their last. He hesitated for a moment, whispering, “I love you,” in her ear, then released her. Sarina nodded and placed her hand on his cheek, then turned and said, “Let’s go.”

*****

Their first destination was the Market district where a large number of Darkspawn ogres were located. They were accompanied by several mages there and were able to work their way through the market area to the Chantry, where they engaged the first of the generals. They managed to get it isolated long enough for the forces to concentrate their firepower on the general in an intense volley, killing it quickly. One down.  
Sarina allowed the group some time to rest and eat before moving on to the Alienage. Alistair sat down between Wynne and Sarina while Zevran scouted ahead. “I think it’s going to get harder as we go,” he admitted, taking another drink of water. Sarina leaned her head on his shoulder, nodding in agreement.  
Zevran returned soon and reported that the gates to the Alienage were open, and it looked deserted. They rose and started for the area.  
They were met by a red haired elf named Shianni who was with a group of elves armed with bows. She told them the Darkspawn were nearly to the southern gate and would break through any moment. Sarina had Shianni and the others cover them as they moved forward to check the gate. It was as she had said so Sarina called upon the allies and was soon joined by a contingent of Dalish bowmen who took up positions of concealment around the gate. Sarina and her group met them head on in hopes of breaking through the attacking horde and picking off the general leading. The Dalish would fire at will on all Darkspawn that entered the Alienage through the gate.  
After beating down the gate the Darkspawn streamed through and headed in all directions, under fire from the Dalish. The General appeared ahead and Alistair and Zevran ran forward to meet it. Wynne and Sarina followed at a slight distance and rained fire and arrows into the beast, with Wynne using her healing spells as needed to keep them going.  
In minutes it was over, the general lay dead and its Darkspawn force was scattered, being picked off by the Dalish from their places of concealment. Sarina had suffered cuts and bruises and Zevran had been knocked out but they were alive and still able to go on. Two down.  
Rest was taken in a small home near the gate for a few hours, guarded by their Dalish allies. Alistair curled up on a bed with Sarina and was asleep almost immediately. Wynne relented and climbed in bed with Zevran, who was good to his word and was a perfect gentlemen, giving her the lion’s share of the blankets.  
Alistair was awakened by a young Dalish woman who reported that a group of dwarves from Orzammar had arrived with communications from the gate. He rose quietly, trying not to disturb the others and went to meet them, returning with a packet of messages. Sarina had awakened and was sitting on the edge of the bed, re-braiding her hair. “What’s the bad news?” she asked.  
Alistair pulled out the top scroll and began reading, “It seems they have managed to hold off a large force that tried to enter at the gates. Casualties were low, Sten reports.”  
“That’s good news, she said, reaching for a scroll.  
Suddenly his face became still and he closed his eyes. Sarina became alarmed at the change and took the scroll he held and read it herself, then hung her head in disbelief. “Riordan is dead?” she asked.  
Alistair took the scroll from her, “He did manage to hurt it. It fell to the top of the fort where it sits now, unable to fly. All forces are ordered there to combat it. That’s where they want us to head,” he read.  
“Then let’s go, it’s still a long walk there,” she declared, and smiled at him.  
“On our way, boss,” he teased and kissed her on the nose. “Zevran, let’s go, lazy!” he called, kicking the elf’s boot. In minutes they were on their way, their dwarven forces accompanying.

*****

Darkspawn had overrun the palace grounds forcing the group into hand to hand combat. Sarina changed to her sword and dagger and she and Zevran flanked Alistair as they made their way slowly though the grounds, headed for the gates of Ft Drakon. Wynne followed behind, using her magic to repel and heal as they moved.  
Sarina dismantled several traps then they found themselves fighting the largest horde they had encountered so far. She sent half the dwarves to one side and she and her group took the other half and headed around the other side and engaged the horde guarding the gate. Alistair, with Zevran to protect him, worked his way as close as he could in order to dispel the magic of two Genlock sorcerers stationed at the rear of the horde. Once the sorcerers were disabled, the dwarves made short work of the horde itself and Sarina and Wynne met the men and entered the gates with the surviving dwarves bringing up the rear.  
They were met at the gates by Arl Eamon and his knights who were battling a large force protecting the fort. “Fancy meeting you here,” the Arl remarked, smiling as he sliced his way through a Darkspawn grunt.  
Alistair laughed at his humor, “What?” he retorted, “No beer?” and moved to fight by his side, Sarina following.  
They made their way to the metal doors of the fort, and opened them, peering into the darkness for any new threats, and finding none, entered. The group found a small chapel on the right where they took some time to tend their wounds and grab some food. When they were ready, the force made their way to the roof and their target, fighting room to room until they reached the top floor.  
The whispers of the Archdemon became louder and louder the closer they got to the roof. Alistair kept watching Sarina for any reaction, but she held her own, making him proud of her, the doors to the roof were right in front of them.  
Stopping long enough to check weapons and injuries, the group nodded to each other and opened the huge roof doors and took their first look at their prey.  
It was black as sin, thirty feet tall, with claws and teeth that were razor sharp and eager. One of its wings had been damaged in its fight with Riordan making it unable to fly, but dangerous nonetheless.  
Sarina looked around her for any advantage she could see in their fight and hit upon it. The huge ballistas that normally sat on the city walls had been moved to the fort’s roof for safekeeping and were mounted for easy transport. They could be swung around to face the dragon and shot from their mountings, their large arrows more than enough to damage its thick skin.  
“Alistair!’ she yelled, “The ballistas!” and pointed to the nearest one.  
“Zevran, take Wynne and use that one!” he yelled, pointing to the left. They ran to it, moved it into position, and loaded it, waiting for the command to fire.  
Alistair grabbed Sarina’s hand and ran to the right and prepared the ballista there for firing. He gave the signal for Eamon’s knights to charge then signaled to Zevran to fire at will. The Archdemon screamed and began to thrash about, not knowing who to attack. It began to swish its tail back and forth, forcing the Redcliffe knights to fall back, enabling the dragon to begin its fire attacks at the mounted ballistas.  
Zevran and Wynn were forced to run from a particularly violent burst of fire, recovering to see the ballista they were firing was in flames and unusable. They spotted a second ballista nearby and took off to prepare and fire it.  
Alistair and Sarina continued to fire, stopping only long enough to unjam it and reload. The Redcliffe knights had gotten a foothold again and were joined by reinforcements of Dalish, mages, and dwarves who kept the dragon away from the ballistas. The fight continued unabated for hours, the creature weakening with each stroke.  
Suddenly, the Archdemon raised its head in one last threatening cry, causing both Alistair and Sarina to stop and cover their ears, trying to shut it out. Then, with one last swish of its tail, it collapsed to the ground, breathing a last ball of fire. Alistair had given the signal to halt the ballista fire and stop the ground attack when he noticed a solitary figure running toward the dragon.  
Sarina had seen the dragon fall and didn’t wait, seizing her chance; she picked up a longsword and rushed the beast, running the blade along the dragon’s neck, slicing into its flesh.  
“Sarina!” hollered Alistair, “Maker! Stop!” and he started running toward her, to stop her.  
Sarina walked to the backside of the dragon’s head and plunged the sword deep into the dragon’s neck. A flash of light, streaming from the wound began to envelop her as she struggled to keep the sword deep in the beast’s neck. Alistair reached her only to be driven back, unable to get close enough to either help or stop her.  
The Archdemon let out a last gasp and howl and there was a huge explosion of light and power, throwing everything away from its center. It was dead.

*****

He came to minutes or hours later, he couldn’t tell. Around him was nothing but debris and bodies, most moaning and crying. He raised his head to look around and saw the beast, dead where it fell, and he staggered to his feet.  
Sarina. Where was she? He looked to his left and found Wynne, shaken but okay. He helped her up and hugged her and they began to look for the others.  
Zevran stumbled out of a corridor where he had sought protection and put his arm around Wynne to support her. Alistair put his hand on the elf’s shoulder and squeezed, glad to see his friend alive. There was no sign of Sarina.  
He searched the circular perimeter of the blast, fearing with each step that she had been consumed by the power of the explosion, when he noticed a wisp of reddish brown hair blowing in the breeze next to a wall.  
She had been blown across the roof and had rolled to a stop against a far wall. Battered and crumpled, she lay still as if asleep. He was sure she was gone, and knelt down more from reflex than from hope to check. Somehow she managed to move slightly and he let out a cry and slowly turned her over and picked her up. Her eyes fluttered open slightly and he brushed the hair away from her face. “You did it,” he said, smiling, and she smiled back and closed her eyes. 

Denerim Palace

She was taken to the palace and placed in a suite near Alistair’s rooms. He refused to leave her at first, fearing she would not survive. Wynne explained to the healers present that he would be impossible to reason with so they didn’t try. Instead she saw a cot was brought and placed next to the bed for him so he would get the much needed rest he needed to heal himself.  
Sarina returned to consciousness three days later with a proud Alistair holding her. She asked about their companions and was told they were all well and wanting to see her. Word was spreading that the hero who had killed the dragon and saved the country was a woman and a Cousland. Alistair had issued a notice confirming the rumor and declared that she was a national hero who would be honored as soon as she was well. No one could have been prouder.  
A week passed and Wynne had allowed her to take short walks through the palace so Alistair would wrap her in blankets, pick her up and carry her to the Queen’s garden where she could take some air. He never left her side, making some wonder if he intended to run the country at all or just run her. Eamon would smile and take up whatever matter needed attention, diverting it away from Alistair. “The boy needs this time for himself,” he thought, “He will soon have none.”  
A few days later, Alistair and Sarina were sitting in her room, playing games, when there was a knock at the door. “Come,” he said, and a middle aged man in palace livery entered bearing a note for him. He read the note and smiled, causing Sarina to wonder. He turned to the servant, “Thank you Martin, tell him I will be down in a few minutes.” Martin nodded and bowed, then left.  
“So sorry, my love, but something has come up that demands my immediate attention. Can you excuse me?” he asked.  
“Of course. You will come back soon, I hope,” she answered.  
Alistair stood and bent to kiss her, “Not soon enough,” he said, “Wait right here,” and he left quickly, leaving her with a puzzled look.  
Not long after, Leliana came in and helped her bath and dress, explaining that she could receive visitors now and should look her best as she was to be queen after all. Sarina didn’t see what the fuss was all about but let her have her way as there was no reasoning with her in this mood. In no time she was dressed in a lovely blue robe and her hair was brushed and arranged. She sat on the settee with a blanket over her legs, reading the latest missives from the army, when there was a knock at the door. Leliana went to open it and let Alistair in.  
“Now that’s more like it,” he said, admiring Leliana’s handiwork, “beautiful,” and he bent to kiss her, careful not to muss her too much. “I have a surprise for you today, love,” he announced.  
“Another? I getting worn out with all this intrigue, you know,” she complained.  
Alistair laughed at her reaction, “This one you will enjoy, I promise. You have a very important visitor.”  
Sarina’s eyes narrowed and she sighed, “Okay, bring whoever it is in, but ten minutes is all they get.”  
“Ten minutes? I think surely I deserve more than that, little sister,” came a familiar voice.  
Sarina’s eyes grew big as she saw Fergus enter the room. He ran to the settee and grabbed her up into a hug as she burst into tears of joy. Alistair stood at the door with Leliana, smiling at her happiness. Leliana hugged him and left to tell the others of Sarina’s good fortune.  
Fergus hadn’t made back to the battle at Ostagar after his scouting expedition. They had been attacked by a large group of Darkspawn and most of his men were killed. He had been seriously injured and had awoken three weeks later feverish and sick in a Chasind hut. They villagers had cared for him until he could make his way back to Highever. He had gotten nearly home when he heard the castle had been overrun and his family killed. He had been in hiding ever since, planning to retake his home when a messenger from the king had found him and brought him here to her.  
Sarina couldn’t have been happier. The two men she loved most in the world were with her and her family was at least partially restored. She told Fergus of the death of Howe and what happened that night at Highever so many months before. They both cried over Oriana and Oren as well as their parents. Alistair had sat nearby and listened, thinking to himself that this was what family was and now it was soon to be his.  
A knock sounded at the door and Martin entered to announce that Fergus’ rooms were ready. Fergus excused himself with a promise to see her at supper, then gave her a kiss on the forehead. He shook Alistair’s hand, winking at him then left.  
Alistair looked at the woman he loved, he had never seen her so happy and he had made her so. He came over and sat down beside her and took her into his arms as she cried again for happiness. “You found him,” she said simply, “You really found him.”  
“Of course I did, love. I promised you I would,” he told her, “You didn’t doubt me, did you?”  
“Never again,” she promised.  
“Good, then allow me to say that you now owe me a tremendous debt and I shall be here to collect it this evening with your healer’s permission,” he announced.  
“Ah, so I had better rest up then. Sounds like a busy time for me ahead.”  
He moved in for a kiss, “Very,” he said, and claimed her mouth.

*****

One month later, the nobles of Ferelden and honored guests gathered in the Landsmeet chamber to celebrate the crowning of their new king. Everyone was looking forward to the ceremony and celebrations except one person, the future king himself. “Foolishness!” he complained. “Can’t I just sign a paper and let that be it?”  
“No, you can’t,” Sarina explained, “The people need something to celebrate after all this, and you are going to give it to them. I will be right there with you. I promise.”  
“That is the only way I could do this. Can I have a drink before?” he asked.  
Sarina smiled at this nervousness, “One,” she said and poured it for him.  
Two hours later Alistair walked slowly down the main aisle of the Landsmeet chamber, nodding to those he knew who had gathered to see him crowned. He reached the front and saw Sarina, standing with Fergus in their places as Teryn and future queen of Ferelden. He smiled, anxiety written all over his face. Sarina smiled at him and mouthed, “I love you,” to him as he passed.  
Alistair climbed to the top of the dais and was greeted there by the grand cleric. He knelt and received her blessing, winking at her as he rose, causing her to smile. He bowed to her and turned to his subjects, acknowledging their cheers and applause. He looked down to see Sarina, tears in her eyes, smiling. She blew a kiss to him, causing him to smile bigger.  
He was king.

*****

A week later it was her turn to be nervous. The formal ceremony acknowledging her as the Hero of Ferelden was planned. She hated the title but wouldn’t say a thing, it was Alistair’s idea and he was so proud of her. So, she took her turn walking down the main aisle to the dais to be welcomed by her king as a hero and his future wife. She smiled as he asked her what she would like in the way of a boon. “I ask that the sacrifices of the Grey Wardens not be forgotten,” she asked.  
Alistair smiled at her modest request, “So practical,” he thought, then he acknowledged her request, “That’s a very good point. There will be a monument erected here in Denerim to all the Grey Wardens who have fallen. And it is time scholars were assembled to learn more about the Darkspawn. We will have to face them again.” He paused to allow the assembly to applaud the announcement, then continued, “Let it be known that the Arling of Amaranthine, once the land of Arl Howe, is granted to the Grey Wardens. There they can rebuild their order, an example of those that went before them.”  
Sarina bowed before him, and he smiled.  
“There is a group of Ferelden citizens out front who wish to get a look at their Hero. You should make an appearance before they storm the gate.” He laughed, “Tell the guards at the door when you are ready.”  
“Oh no,” she said, “Bows we take together. You did this too.”  
Alistair laughed at her insistence, “Okay, you win. It might just give me an excuse for a public show of affection for my future wife.”  
“You never know,” she replied, seductively, but apparently he did.

*****

It had been six months of organizing the government, taking trips to observe the rebuilding and resettlement of villages and towns, setting up relations with other nations. He had been busier than he could have ever imagined. There was just one more piece of business he needed to attend to.  
Alistair stood on the dais of the Landsmeet chamber with Arl Eamon at his side. The trumpets sounded a welcome and the huge doors of the chamber opened to allow two individuals access. Musicians played a tune as they walked down the main aisle, soon getting close enough to reveal their identities, Sarina, on the arm of her brother, Fergus. He watched as the couple drew closer, the nobles bowing in deference to their future queen. She looked up and into his eyes, hope and love shining from them and he smiled, looking at no one but her.  
Fergus led her up the steps to stand in front of him, then bowed to his king and kissed his sister, whispering to her, causing her to blush. She turned and faced Alistair, who looked over her shoulder at his future brother-in-law, who merely smiled and winked.  
The Grand Cleric began the rites and both parties vowed to love and protect the other, a moot point as they already did. Alistair slipped a small gold ring engraved with the royal seal onto her finger, then faced the Grand Cleric for her benediction. Then he turned and faced his wife, taking her into his arms and kissing her soundly, whispering, “Maker’s breathe, I love you,” then releasing her to turn and face his friends and subjects. He had everything he ever wanted, Sarina was his.

*****

That night, Alistair paced back and forth in front of the huge double windows in the sitting room, worrying. It had been a long day and he was tired, but nervous. “I’m married,” he thought, “Maker!” and he paced faster; worried he wasn’t good enough for her, that she’d leave him for another or just hate him. There was a soft knock on the adjoining door that connected the sitting room to the bed chamber beyond and he jumped, startled. Feeling foolish, he walked to the door and opened it, peering inside.  
She was standing at the small table that stood against the wall, pouring wine into two glasses. She was wearing a thin white robe that belted with a tie, her hair streaming down her back in waves. She turned to him and smiled shyly.  
Alistair couldn’t move for wanting her. She was so lovely and she was his. He suddenly became so nervous at the thought of her being his wife; she noticed the change and felt his fear. Slowly she walked to him, stopping just short of his embrace, “If there is something you want, you will tell me, and I will tell you,” she said softly.  
“If you like something, you’ll tell me and I will tell you,” he replied.  
“If you are scared or nervous, kiss me. You know how to do that,” she countered.  
He reached out and took her into his arms then and kissed her, and she returned it to him, his fears and anxiety melting away with her touch. He was home and he was good enough.

 

Darkness Steals  
Denerim Palace

“More!’ he screamed, “More!”  
Sarina jumped at Alistair’s outburst, looking around her for any threats, and finding none. He was in the throes of another nightmare, and had not awoken. She rolled over and shook him, calling his name, “Alistair!, Wake up! Please! It’s okay, I’m here.”  
He thrashed around as if trying to catch or grab something or someone. Sarina fought him and gained control of his wrists, continuing to call his name and try to sooth him. He stopped fighting and opened his eyes, not seeing her but something, and stared ahead, peering at whatever it was. In the blink of an eye he’d grabbed her, breaking free of her grasp, taking her mouth in a bruising kiss, more punishing than sensual. She kissed him back, hoping to ease him back to her with love, the only thing that worked for them.  
Alistair reached up and tore her thin night rail off, tossing the shreds aside, pulling her to him and forcing her under him. His mouth began to assault her, biting her on her neck, shoulders and breasts, and she could feel the wounds forming from his teeth on her skin. She clawed at him with her nails, drawing blood and causing him to roar like an animal and push her down harder into the bed. He forced her legs open and entered her, thrusting himself in and out, making her respond to his fury. Sarina cried out with pleasure at his force and wrapped her legs around him, spurring him for more. He continued his attack, spilling into her, taking her with him, but not stopping. “More,” he kept saying, and more she would get.  
He rolled her over, entering her from behind, causing her to lose her balance. He grabbed a handful of her hair and held her in place with his strength, pounding her still harder, making her cry out in pain. He laughed and kept going at her, spilling into her again.  
Sarina fell to the bed under his weight, panting. Alistair went up on all fours and rolled her over, trying to spread her legs and enter again, but she tried to roll off the bed and away from him. He grunted his displeasure and slapped her, causing her to still long enough for him to force her legs apart and enter her. She struggled to get free of his grasp but he was too strong and soon spilling into her a third time. He collapsed on top of her, murmuring. Sarina began to push at him and wriggle out from under him when she heard him say, “Morrigan.”  
She froze, not believing what she had heard, a name she had thought long buried. He had not spoken to her of that night, years ago at Redcliffe, when she asked the terrible thing of him. He had returned to her, bruised and raw, a broken man. He had recovered and she had prayed she would never hear the name again, but here it was.  
Sarina pushed at him with all her might, rolling him off the bed and onto the floor, then rolled off the other side of the bed and came to her feet. Alistair roared his displeasure with being interrupted and came over the bed at her. She was quick and jumped out of his way, heading for the wall, and his weapons rack. She drew his father’s sword out of its scabbard and pointed it at him, “Stay away from me!” she told him.  
Alistair froze, his eyes glazed over, saying that name again. She raised the sword to his neck, cutting a small cut in the skin. The smell of blood caused him to pause and he closed his eyes tight, seeking control. When they opened he saw her, sword in hand, ready to kill him in an instant. “Sarina?” he asked, confused.  
She lowered the sword slightly and looked at him, unsure of what to do. He made a step towards her and she screamed, “No! Stay away from me!” and ran into the sitting room. The next sound he heard was the sound of her bedchamber door slamming shut and the bolt being thrown. He ran to the door and pounded on it, calling for her to open but he was greeted only with the sound of crying. He turned around, leaning back against the door, slowly sliding to the floor, and sobbed.

*****

Martin found him the next morning, asleep on the floor outside her door. He roused him and took him to his bedchamber, cleaned him up, put him to bed and stayed with him until he awoke in the late afternoon. Alistair felt like he had drank too much ale, and something was very wrong. “Martin?” he asked cautiously, “What time is it?”  
“Tis after four sire; you have been asleep since early this morning,” was the concerned reply.  
Alistair slowly rose and looked around the room, trying to remember what had happened the night before. He saw glimpses of Sarina, bruised and holding a sword at his throat, and her under him as he had his way with her, violently and repeatedly. He turned to Martin and asked quickly, “Where is the queen?”  
Martin rose to pick up the covers that had slid off the bed, then turned to face him, “Gone, sire. She left very early this morning, alone.”  
He felt like the sword she had wielded had truly pierced him. “Did she say where?” he asked, knowing the answer.  
“She refused, sire”  
Alistair grabbed his robe, walked to her bedchamber and saw the bed had not been slept in. He found the door open and the room clean. He walked to the closet and saw her armor and weapons were missing as was her traveling kit. He started to walk back to the sitting room when he spotted his father’s sword, sitting on the side table. He lifted it up and saw the blood tinting the tip and everything came back to him. Sarina, covered in bruises and bites. He had attacked her, thinking she was the dark witch and she had been forced to defend herself against him. Now she was gone. He cried out her name in anguish and fell to the floor.

 

Witch Hunting  
Warden’s Keep

“Commander, there is an urgent message for you from the king,” reported the seneschal as he handed her the packet with the royal seal emblazoned on its clasp.  
Sarina stared at the packet then set it down on the desk. “Later,” she thought.  
The seneschal watched her as she set the message bag down. He could tell something was wrong, but rank made it difficult for him to ask. He settled for a reminder, “The messenger has been instructed to wait for a reply, Commander.  
She sighed and nodded. “He’s determined this time,” she thought. She opened the bag and read the scroll, tears forming in her eyes. The seneschal noticed her discomfort and excused himself quickly.  
The letter was all apologies with a sprinkling of love and ‘I miss you,” but no explanation and without that, she would not return. He had attacked her in the name of another. It wasn’t the attack; it was the other that mattered to her. She got out her pen and quickly wrote a brief report of the Keep’s progress, then attached the official seal and sealed the letter. She called for the seneschal, who delivered her answer to the messenger. It was done.  
Sarina had come to Vigil’s Keep a month ago. There was much to be done here and it was a much needed diversion after her ordeal with Alistair. But no amount of work could erase the damage that had been done. The scars were there now, both visible and not, and they might never heal. Something had to be done, and soon.  
She opened the locked drawer in her desk and took out the packet she had received three days before. She had sent Zevran out to collect intelligence for her and he had come through with flying colors.  
When she had arrived at the Keep, Zevran had been there, conducting training sessions for some of the new recruits. He had been up after a late night debauch somewhere and had seen her arrive. She had taken pains to enter the fort at night so as to hide her appearance from anyone. The bruises were still fresh and the fewer questions she had to answer the better. Zevran had not been fooled and demanded to know what had happened. She told him the truth, or as much of it as he needed to know. He was in shock at first, and then furious but respected her desire to keep her problems secret and merely took her to her quarters, remaining with her until she had fallen asleep.  
Sarina opened the envelope and read the contents again. The Korcari Wilds was the place to start. She went to pack.

Korcari Wilds

The hut looked decidedly different from the last time she had been here, over four years before. Even then it had looked as if it would fall down at any moment; the years had not changed it for the better.  
Sarina approached the dwelling with caution, tingling with the sense of nearby darkspawn. She opened the door slowly, peering into the darkened room, ready for any threat. A noise at the back of the room alerted her to a presence and she drew her bow readying for an attack.  
She was Dalish, a warrior seasoned by her look. She drew her longsword and held it out, ready for any attack. “Do not come any closer, shem. What are you doing here?”  
Sarina held up her hands in a peaceful gesture. “My scouts reported a woman here. I was checking out their report,” she answered.  
“You are looking for the witch? You cannot be here for Flemeth but for Morrigan. She has caused much trouble for my clan. Has she earned your ire as well?”  
Sarina’s eyes grew narrow, “It is between Morrigan and me.”  
“Morrigan took an ancient book my clan has guarded since the days of Arlathan. We were the only ones with such a piece of our history,” the elf explained. “Morrigan visited our clan a month ago and took interest in our history. She was allowed to see the book and two nights later it was gone.”  
“What is so special about this book?”  
“For two thousand years the Dalish have been wanderers, the book is one of only a few clues of how to reclaim our past. Our keeper says it is a treatise on something called an ‘eluvian’ but its meaning has been lost. Save perhaps to Morrigan.”  
“So what do you propose?” asked Sarina.  
“My name is Ariane. Help me. We both hunt Morrigan and can aid each other. I would return the book to my people. There are other treasures like it in the library of the Circle of Magi. They won’t let a Dalish examine them but perhaps you could,” she explained.  
“My name is Sarina. They have to let me in; I’m a Grey Warden. I will help you,” she told her.  
Ariane’s eyes grew big, “Ma serannas, I look forward to working with you.”

 

Circle of Magi

Their trip to the Circle Tower took three days, interrupted by Darkspawn for most of the first. Eventually they left the Wilds and were able to reach Lake Calenhad and take a boat for the trip up the coast to Kinloch Hold, the home of the Circle of Magi.  
They were greeted by Hadley, a Templar knight in temporary charge during Knight–Commander Greagoir’s absence. Hadley was doubtful of letting a Dalish into the Tower but Sarina assured him he had nothing to fear. He allowed them both to enter as long as they stayed on the first two floors and suggested they begin their search for information in the index section of the library.  
The two of them searched for hours until they were able to locate books on elven artifacts and ancient elven languages in hopes they would be able to find clues as to what an eluvian was and where one might be located. Sarina deftly pilfered the books, mentally promising to return them when she was through. As they were reading one of the tomes, they were met by a tall, thin mage with red hair.  
“Whoa! What are you doing in here? And what are you doing? Be careful!” he chided them.  
Sarina did not appreciate being interrupted, time was short, “You’re in my light,” she said, disgusted.  
The mage stepped back a step, “You…you look…er…like you could probably squash me like a gnat, but I can’t just sit by while you mishandle innocent tomes!” He was growing more agitated with the minute, “You’re bending the book too much! It’ll crack the spine and cause the pages to fall out.”  
“Look, I’m in the middle of something important.”  
“Hmmm…browsing the chapter on the eluvians? No one’s actually found one you know.”  
Ariane’s head snapped up to look at the mage, “You know what an eluvian is?”  
The mage crossed his arms and continued, “It is old elvish for ‘seeing glass’. A mirror.”  
“What else do you know about it?” asked Sarina.  
“Eluvians aren’t just any mirrors, they are a special kind,” he said.  
“My clan crossed paths with another clan not long ago. They told us about two of their hunters that had encountered a strange mirror in some ruins. One disappeared; the other became deathly ill,” Ariane began, “They never found the one, and the other died. They left Ferelden, and traveled north to forget their sorrows.”  
“What about the mirror?” inquired Sarina.  
“It was shattered, destroyed,” answered Ariane.  
The mage gasped, “Why?”  
“It was…corrupted by the Darkspawn beyond hope or recovery. They did it to protect others.”  
“Even broken, it could be used to find the others. No, don’t get ahead of yourself, Finn, you have to be sure,” he said, more to himself than the others.  
Ariane jumped on his comment, “What? What do you know?”  
“This is so exciting! We have to get to the repository. Hadley has the key.” He started off towards the door, “Oh. I’m Finn, by the way, pleased to meet you.”  
“I am Sarina and this is Ariane, same here,” and they followed.

*****

Hadley was less than cooperative when it came to giving Finn the key to the repository. The sentinels that guarded the treasures stored there were acting strangely and no one was permitted to enter for safety reasons. Sarina offered to check out the area and deal with the sentinels so Hadley allowed her to use the key for entrance. Conveniently, Finn and Ariane came along to assist.  
They entered the former phylactery chamber on their way to the repository when they were attacked by the sentinels. It took a few minutes of heated combat to defeat the magical creatures, but they did. Once they were defeated, a glowing doorway in the Veil appeared and they were forced to use magic and weapons to close it.  
Finn was shaken by his admitted first time in combat but was impressed with himself for nothing if not that he has survived. “That was exciting! Do you two do this sort of thing often?”  
Sarina smiled at him, “Sometimes we go on all day,” and she winked at Ariane, who giggled.  
The mage was startled by her admission, but realized the joke was on him and smiled, “The repository is just in there,” he said, pointing to a second door, “The statue will know what we need.”  
They entered the repository and Sarina discovered an unbelievable amount of artifacts from Tevinter, the elves and who knew where else. Finn explained that many of them were dangerous so it was not wise to touch or handle them unless you knew what you were doing, causing Ariane to cross her arms over her body as she walked through the room. At the back of the room they found what they were looking for.  
It was as statue that looked as old as the earth itself. The face had worn nearly smooth and it was covered with chips and scratches. Finn reached out with his hand and a glowing energy jumped from it to the statue.  
“The prison is breached. I see the encroaching darkness,” came a voice from the statue.  
“Wow. It does talk,” exclaimed Ariane.  
Finn peered at the statue’s face, “Hello?”  
The voice returned, fearful, “The…the shadow will consume all…”  
Sarina took a step forward to examine it closely her senses reaching out to it, “It seems…afraid.”  
“Something is causing it distress. The tears in the Veil, most likely. The statue’s useless until we mend the veil.”  
The three of them proceeded to comb the rest of the repository for corrupted sentinels and tears in the Veil, dispatching the former and closing the latter. Once the last tear was mended, the feel of the area changed and Sarina could tell it was safe at last. They returned to the repository room and the statue.  
Finn reached out with magical energy and touched the statue. “I am the spirit of Eleni Zynovia, once consort and-“  
“Advisor to Archon Valerius, blah, blah, blah, fall of the house. Yes we have been through that,” remarked Finn, sarcastically.  
The statue replied, “Finn…greetings”  
“Finn, how does this help us?” asked a puzzled Sarina.  
Finn looked at both women, “It will know about the eluvians, you’ll see.”  
The statue caught their conversation and continued, “Eluvians? The mirrors…yes. Saved from Arlathan—pretty things that showed no reflection, only a haunting emptiness.”  
“You remember Arlathan?” asked Ariane, entranced.  
“Little elf. Now you carry that emptiness with you, and name it for your homeland.”  
Finn asked, “Where are the mirrors?”  
“Where is a door? Is it not in two places?” it replied.  
Sarina looked at Finn, doubting what she had heard, “Finn, do you understand this?”  
Finn sighed, “It’s hard to get answers out of—it requires parsing all the grandiose mumbo-jumbo.” He started to pace a bit, nervously contemplating their predicament, then he stopped and addressed the statue, “We know there a broken eluvian lies. Can it still be used to find the others?”  
“Scry,” it said, “The broken glass, dagger-sharp, will be your key.”  
“Broken glass? From the mirror?” asked Sarina.  
“Yes. The lights of Arlathan will illuminate the scryer’s path.”  
“The deep halls of Cadash. We have to get there,” said Sarina.  
“She mentioned the children of the Stone. I had not realized the durgen ‘len once aided my people when they fled,” remarked Ariane.  
Finn’s mind was already working feverously, “Deep halls of Cad’halash... must mean a dwarven thaig. We must go find this thaig and the broken eluvian.”  
“Now mage, will you tell us what’s going on?” asked a superstitious Ariane.  
He continued, “But the one you know of is broken, and corrupted. So we need something else to …amplify the magic.”  
“The Lights of Arlathan,” realized Ariane.  
“Will you come with us, Finn?” asked Sarina.  
Finn started walking to the door of the repository, talking all the way, “I’m sure I have a map to Cadash Thaig somewhere in my books. I’ll find it on the road.”

 

Darkness Hopes  
Denerim Palace

“She has left the Keep, sire. No one knows where she has gone,” was the reply.  
He had sent the message as soon as he had received her report. It had been short and simple and so unlike her. “Matters here are going well. No assistance needed at this time’ was all it said, and it was signed with the initials, SC, Sarina Cousland. She wasn’t even using his name.  
Alistair crumpled the message in his hand and hurled it into the fire. He reached down and picked up the glass of whiskey and downed it in one gulp knowing it wouldn’t help, nothing did now, not since she had left. He was in for another round tonight; each night they grew worse but they were beginning to change. Morrigan was still there, but he saw a cave, a place of power, it seemed. There was something there for him, and it called to him now.  
He had consulted with several people as to the meaning of these new dreams. So far no one had a viable explanation, but most agreed that this one was a message, but from who and where were the mysteries. All he knew was he had to find her. He poured another glass.  
“You won’t find the answers you seek in that bottle, my friend Alistair.”  
He sighed and drank off the glass, “No, but I won’t care so much about them, Zevran,” he replied.  
The elf walked to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of wine from another decanter. He took the glass, swished it around and smelled it, closing his eyes as he did so. “Should be safe,” he said and drank.  
“What are you doing here and how did you get in?” asked Alistair, disgustedly.  
Zevran smiled and laughed, “Who do you think trained them to be such wonderful guards, hmmm? I know their ways, but they do not know all mine.”  
Alistair sighed again and reached for the whiskey bottle, but was stopped by a hand. He looked at the elf and shook his head, “Do we really want to go there?” he warned.  
“She left the Keep three weeks ago for the Korcari Wilds and Flemeth’s hut. She was last seen heading from Kinloch Hold towards the Brecilian Forest four days ago,” Zevran reported.  
Alistair looked at him, disbelief written all over his face, “How do you know?” he asked him.  
“Because I am the one who gathered the information for her,”  
“Then she is looking for her.”  
“Yes, she is and she will find her,” Zevran replied, “and so will you.”  
“Why tell me this now?” asked Alistair.  
Zevran took a big drink of wine, savoring both the taste and his answer. “Because she chose you despite the fact that you may not have been the better man.” He drank another drink of the wine, “And…I love her too.”

Dreams to Finish  
Brecilian Forest

Sarina, Finn and Ariane wandered in the forest for over a week before they finally came upon the ruins they were looking for. In the end, they were forced to conduct a grid search using Finn’s maps and Ariane’s forest sense. Finally they were able to locate the entrance to the cave.  
The cave itself was not really a cave but a long buried temple, overgrown with vines, and smelling of decayed leaves and peat. They hadn’t gone twenty feet in before they were attacked by creatures that could have only been corrupted elves.  
“Dareth shiral, falon din,” said Ariane, quietly.  
They continued on, fighting the corrupted ones until they entered a large chamber. Sarina’s sense began the familiar tingle and she drew her bow in readiness. Finn looked at her in awe, and she placed her finger to her lips in warning then pointed ahead…Darkspawn, she mouthed. He drew his staff, looked at Ariane, and then began to gather his power for the inevitable attack. He didn’t have much time to wait.  
Darkspawn came pouring out of the doorway to an inner room in the temple. Sarina began to pick off the outside edges of the small horde, while Ariane charged the front of the group. Finn used both his healing and damaging spells to enchant their weapons, and keep Ariane well. After a few minutes, they succeeded in killing or driving off the bulk of the horde group. Finn concentrated his healing spells on Ariane to keep her well enough to continue.  
They entered the back chamber and found a platform on which stood a large ornate frame with many pieces of broken glass around it.  
“That’s it!” cried Finn, “That’s the eluvian!” He was so excited that Sarina had to place her hand over his mouth shush him. “Sorry,” he whispered.  
Ariane picked up a shard of the mirror in her gloved hand and dropped it quickly in the enchanted bag that Finn held out for her. “Is this enough for the ritual?” she asked him.  
“Should be. Can we leave now? I’m tired of the dirt,” he complained.  
Ariane and Sarina looked at each other and shrugged then the group made their way out of the temple complex.  
“Where to now?” asked Ariane once they were clear of the ruins.  
Finn had his maps out and studied them carefully. He traced his finger from their current location to the location of Cadash Thaig. “It will be another week if not more, depending on the where it sends us,” he replied.  
Sarina was worried her absence had become a problem for the Wardens. Alistair would surely blame them for her disappearance. His status as king of Ferelden did not preclude his knowing what the Wardens were up to in his country. He was a Warden too.  
“We move quickly and get to the thaig as soon as possible,” she declared.

Cadash Thaig

I took nearly a week to travel to the thaig, located in the southern end of the Frostback Mountains. Finn was now not only dirty but cold, he complained, resulting in many smiles and giggles from his female companions. Finn only blushed and apologized before starting right back in again.  
Ariane was proving to be an invaluable asset to Sarina on the journey both as a tracker, hunter and fighter but as a friend. She had taken Finn under her wing; keeping him busy learning fighting skills and forest lore, but it seemed she had also begun to take a romantic interest in the young mage. An interest he did share, it seemed. Sarina was pleased her new friends had found each other, but it made her all too aware of her own loneliness and heartache. She missed Alistair but could not bring herself to return to him yet. She had to find out why he was suffering and find a way heal him.  
The entrance to Cadash Thaig was no more than a hole in the ground disguised as a brush pile. They were unable to find it until Sarina reached out with her Warden senses and felt the distant presence of Darkspawn. She was able to locate the entrance and guide them in.  
It was unlike any thaig she had been in during her times in the Deep Roads. It was swampy, cold and damp, not the hot dry furnace feel that they normally had. She signaled her companions to keep quiet and zeroed in on the location of the Darkspawn. When had located their positions, they fanned out in a semicircle and began to attack at will, Ariane spearheaded the attack with Sarina helping and Finn attacked from above, keeping them healed as well. In no time they had defeated them.  
Finn was definitely ill at ease, “I’m not sure I like the Deep Roads. Fewer Darkspawn than I expected, but it feels like we’re being watched. Is this Cadash Thaig?”  
Sarina looked around her, assessing the area, “This should be it,” she answered.  
Finn began to rummage through his notes, “Right. So I’ve…er, been going through my old notes. Hmmm.”  
“And?” asked Sarina, interested.  
“And I came across this footnote. Apparently, the elves would magically conceal relics of great significance, thus shielding them from unworthy eyes. And given what the Tevinters did, I’d say they count as unworthy.”  
“You don’t say,” said Ariane, teasing.  
He smiled at her then continued, “I hate to say it, but yes, we wouldn’t be able to see the Lights of Arlathan if they were right under our noses. If the elves concealed the relics with magic, only the blood of their kin will reveal them,” he hesitated, looking at Ariane, “Ariane, we need some of your blood.”  
Ariane’s eyes got big, “Excuse me?”  
“Just a few drops, that’s it.”  
Sarina was suspicious, “This isn’t blood magic is it?”  
The mage thought for a moment, considering his answer carefully, Um…blood doesn’t power the spell—it’s just a component. But, it’s certainly a grey area, so let’s just keep their between the three of us. Shall we?” He continued to explain, “You share the same blood as the Arlathan elves, so you’re the only one this enchantment might recognize.”  
Ariane looked at Finn closely, “Fine, Just because hearing that gets me all tingly. A few drops,” she said huskily.  
Finn took her hand in his, stroking it lightly, “I’ll…be gentle,” he told her, softly, “My spell will reveal vortices of magic. Standing in them should allow us to see the energy being drawn to the relics, which will lead us to them.”  
He took the few drops of her blood and mixed it with some other components in a vial. An application of some magic energy and suddenly a magic vortex appeared about twenty feet in front of them. Finn directed Sarina to stand in the center of it and she was able to see the magic energies flowing toward the nearest lantern’s hiding place. She marked the position in her mind’s eye, then headed for it.  
Darkspawn seemed to be around every corner as they searched for the Lights. Sarina’s senses never stopped tingling. They defeated a group of about a half dozen, then Ariane looked off to the left to see a glowing object suspended in a corner between two ancient houses. She approached it to see it was a lamp, simple in design and function. She reached up and picked it from its perch. “That’s one of the Lights of Arlathan.” exclaimed Finn as he took the lantern from her. “Let’s find the others.”  
Suddenly a ghostly creature appeared and attacked the small party. It had the look of an elven warrior, powerful and deadly. It took a considerable bit of energy on the part of all three to defeat it.  
“What in the names of the gods was that?” asked a surprised Ariane.  
“Uh…well,” Finn stuttered, “It seems the elves thought it a good idea to place guards on the lights for…additional protection.”  
“You couldn’t have told us this before?” she asked, disgusted.  
Finn was decidedly apologetic in his manner to her, “I hoped they hadn’t or that they were no longer here. Are you all right?”  
Ariane softened at his concern, “I’m fine. Anything else you aren’t telling me?”  
Finn smiled a sweet smile at the beautiful elf warrior, then leaned in and whispered to her, “Nothing I can say in front of Sarina.” Ariane smiled and blushed, then nodded. Sarina shook her head and sighed.  
Sarina located the next vortex and pinpointed the next location. There were more Darkspawn to fight but she was wary this time and was able to prepare a better defense. They soon were dead and a second Light was found. From then they systematically worked their way through the thaig, searching and fighting, locating two more Lights.  
Finn secured the last of the Lights and turned to his companions, “We have the shard of the eluvian, and the Lights of Arlathan. Now all we have to do is scry for an unbroken mirror. I saw a suitable place for the ritual not too far from here.”  
Finn arranged the Lights in a circle then placed the shard carefully in the middle of the circle. He cast a large amount of energy at the shard and stepped back. The shard began to glow with an eerie light that grew beyond the confines of the circle of the Lights. He slowly stepped into the light and closed his eyes. Ariane held on to Sarina’s arm in fear for him.  
The Lights began to dim slightly and the shard stopped its unearthly glow. Finn opened his eyes and stepped back, stumbling. Ariane was at his side to catch him. He looked down at her, then put his arms around her and hugged her. Pulling back, he looked down at his robes, “Phew! Am I bleeding? Oh look, a rip in my robe. “  
Ariane laughed at his discomfort, “What happened to, ‘Ariane, give us your blood. Who cares if it hurts?”  
“It’s…my blood. That’s different.”  
Ariane and Sarina laughed at him, causing him to join in. Sarina asked, “Did the ritual work?”  
“I’ve pinpointed another eluvian. It’s in the Dragonbone Wastes. The Tevinters probably moved it there to see if the ancient dragon bones could enhance the eluvian’s power,” he reported.  
“So what do we do when we get there?” asked Sarina.  
Finn pulled out his notes and maps to study, “We examine the mirror. It might give clues to what Morrigan’s doing. If she’s looking for the eluvians as well, she might even be there.” He located the Wastes on his map then looked at Ariane and held out his arm, “Shall we, my dear?” She giggled and took it, Sarina following.

Dragonbone Wastes

Sarina senses were off here. She could tell there were things here that were a threat, but was unable to determine what or even where they were. It was not a situation she wanted to be in with such a small party of companions.  
Finn looked at the entrance to the pass leading to the Wastes, his fear quite evident in the way he carried himself, “There aren’t going to be any dragons in there, will there?”  
Ariane stepped closed to him and put her hand on his arm, causing him to jump. She smiled up at him and shook her head. He placed his hand over hers and squeezed, smiling back at her, then looked at Sarina, “Well then, my good protectors, let’s go.” Sarina nodded.  
Navigating the area was difficult. The dragon bones were scattered everywhere making it difficult to find and stay on a path for any length of time. Finn reached into his bag and pulled out a large ball of twine, cast a spell then tied it to the nearest bone he could find. As they walked, he unwound the string to give them a visual aid to finding a way back to the entrance. Sarina was surprised to see the string disappearing behind them as they walked. When she mentioned it to Finn, he told them that the string was invisible so that it couldn’t be tampered with by anyone wanting to keep them from leaving and could only be seen by them. She was most impressed by his ingenuity.  
The danger she had feared came in the form of human and elven cult members. Sarina recognized the symbols on their clothing as the same as that of the cult members of Andraste in the village of Haven. At least now she could put a name to the danger she was facing. She warned Ariane and Finn that they were fierce fighters who would defend their places of worship to the death. Finn cast a second shield spell on himself and enchanted their weapons with ice to give them more power as they fought. Fortunately they were few in number and Sarina made a note to report their presence here at the first opportunity.  
They reached a low hill at the center of the wastes and found an old temple structure set into the mountain above. A small plateaued area lead to the entrance and the party carefully made their way to it. They had nearly reached the door when they heard a loud roar that shook the ground around them. The three looked up to the dome of the temple above and saw a large grey creature that walked on six legs.  
“What…is…that?” asked a terrified Finn.  
Ariane was as sacred as he, “A…a varterral! It can’t be; they’re only legends!” She slowly started backing up for cover with Finn and Sarina following. “It is said they were rock and tree, wind and rain, given form and breathe by the elven gods to protect their people.”  
“To protect their people? Then why does it look like it’s going to eat you?” he asked her.  
There was no time for an answer as the varterral attacked the three. A forward assault was hopeless as Ariane found out quickly. The creature stood too tall for her to strike with her swords. She switched to her bow and the three of them made for sheltered areas scattered around the plateau and began to rain down arrows and magic on the beast. After several minutes of heated battle the varterral fell and Ariane rushed forward to end the beast’s life with her sword.  
Finn checked them over for injuries and they took a few minutes to rest before entering the temple. Sarina’s senses no longer sensed the danger they had before but there was something else she was sensing now, familiar but faint, Darkspawn taint. She kept the feelings to herself for the time being as they entered the temple.  
Inside they found a huge chamber, cut into the mountain, more natural cave than man-made. It contained a large lake with an island in the middle, reachable by a narrow strip of land from the doorway where they stood. They proceeded up the path to the island. The closer they got, the stronger she sensed the Darkspawn taint. As they reached the island she saw it.  
The eluvian stood on a dais of sorts in the middle of the island, glowing with a purplish light, a swirling vortex showing on its surface. Standing in front the mirror was Morrigan. She reached out to run her hand over the surface of the mirror as if gauging its readiness for something.  
Finn started to approach it, “The eluvian! And it's...glowing? We should--,” he was stopped by Ariane, who grabbed his hand and placed her other on his chest, shaking her head at him. He stopped and squeezed her hand in his, looking up at the mirror.  
Ariane turned to Sarina, “I think she's...expecting you,” she explained, then whispered, “Ask her about our book!”  
Morrigan turned to face Sarina as she approached slowly, “No further, please. One more step and I leave. For good this time.”  
“There's no need to run, Morrigan,” Sarina told her.  
The witch continued, “I have gone to great lengths to find and activate this portal. Give me reason and I use it, and you will not be able to follow,” she warned.  
“Then why haven't you left, if that's true?”  
“Truth be told, I waited because I was curious. Tell me, why did you come?”  
“I came for answers,” Sarina explained.  
“Answers. We all want answers,” Morrigan declared. “We had a deal. I save your life and in return you leave me be. Why should I answer any of your questions now?”  
“Because the answers could save your life.”  
“If answers are why you came for, then you will have to be satisfied with a warning. Tis' Flemeth you should fear, not me. Hunt her, if you hunt anyone,” Morrigan warned.  
“Why should I?” asked Sarina, cautiously.  
“I thought I knew what Flemeth planned. I thought what she craved was immortality. And yet I was wrong. So very wrong. She is no blood mage, no abomination... she is not even truly human. The ritual was but a means to an end, a herald for what is to come.” She began to pace impatiently before the mirror.  
“Why? What is going to happen?” inquired Sarina, aware that the Darkspawn taint was growing stronger nearby. She looked at her companions with a look that caused the both of them to draw their weapons.  
“Many fear change, and will fight it with every fiber of their being. But sometimes change is what they need most. Sometimes, change is what sets them free. “  
“And is that what you want? To be free?”  
“What I want... is unimportant now. There is one last thing I must tell you, if you will allow me.  
Morrigan turned toward the mirror and ran her hand over it once more as if testing its readiness. All at once, she turned back and looked in the direction of the path, a sly smile forming on her face.  
Alistair walked past Finn and Ariane, not even looking at them; his eyes on Morrigan. Sarina stood still as he walked to the platform, stopping just short of the steps. He looked at Morrigan for a moment then turned to see Sarina standing to the side. His face lit up for an instant before returning to its passive state. Morrigan spoke to the both of them, “The Dalish book is there, as is something else you will find of great interest.” She pointed to a sack nearby.” Now... will you let me go?”  
Sarina looked at her husband then turned to Morrigan, “Go, then,” she said, and walked to the sack the witch had indicated. She opened it and pulled out the book, holding it up for Ariane to see before she returned it to the sack. Then she reached in and pulled out a small statue of an unknown material.  
Sarina put the sack down and turned the figure over in her hands. Suddenly it began to glow, bathing her with an eerie, blue light. She felt ill and dropped to her knees, unable to let go of the artifact. Alistair ran to her side and tried to pry the statue out of her hands only to be repelled by its force. As quickly as it had started, the glowing stopped and Sarina dropped it. Alistair went to his knees and took her face in his hands, checking her for any wounds. His senses told him she was okay and she nodded in agreement. He helped her up from the ground, took her in his arms for a moment, then released her and the two of them looked to the mirror.  
Morrigan had watched their display of affection and smiled. Then she turned to face the eluvian telling them, “I am sorry for everything.” With that, she entered the mirror and was gone.  
Alistair and Sarina watched her disappear then turned to each other. He put his hand on her upper arm and squeezed then let go and drew his sword, walking towards the eluvian. He climbed the steps of the platform and swung the sword with all his might, shattering the mirror into a thousand pieces. Finn gasped his horror and Sarina took a step forward.  
He watched as the pieces of the mirror settled to the ground around him then turned to Sarina. His eyes were full of the pain he had suffered at Morrigan’s hands and she wanted to comfort him and tell him he would be fine. Instead, he turned away from her and walked away, leaving her behind. She stood and watched him go, not knowing what to think or do.  
Ariane and Finn walked to her and the elf put her arm around Sarina’s shoulders and squeezed. Sarina smiled faintly at her friends and picked up the sack. Finn cast a spell on the statue and placed it his enchanted bag for safekeeping. “What do we do now?” he asked.  
Sarina retied the bag and handed it to Ariane, “Let’s get out of here,” she said and started down the path to the door. Just before they reached the doorway, she stopped and turned back to where the mirror had stood, “Goodbye, my friend,” she said quietly, then turned and left the temple.

Vigil’s Keep

Sarina returned to Vigil’s Keep and the Warden Commander’s duties. Ariane and Finn had both accompanied her back to the Keep then parted to return the book to Ariane’s clan. Finn decided since he was out of the Circle, he would just stay out and go along with her. Ariane was ecstatic and planned to show him all the lore and history she knew. Sarina promised to send a note to the Circle of Magi explaining that the Wardens were in need of his specific talents indefinitely thus freeing him from excessive Templar scrutiny. Finn was so happy he hugged her and kissed her cheek.  
Unfortunately there were few problems to take care of and no Darkspawn problems at all so she had time to think on her situation. She wondered if Alistair was still plagued by the dreams and if he had found a way to forgive her for leaving. Missives from the palace had not been forthcoming but Sarina still sent one weekly detailing their activities and the Darkspawn threat. She returned to writing the reports herself to show she was in direct command again and so Alistair could see she was not avoiding him, but no replies were ever received.  
About six weeks after returning to the Keep, the seneschal came to her after supper and told her she had a visitor in her quarters. Sarina’s eyebrows rose a little at his admission but she figured it was probably Leliana, Wynne or Zevran as all three had access to her personal quarters when they were there. “Thank you, I’ll go at once,” she replied, missing the mischievous look he gave her as she walked away.  
Sarina entered her quarters to find the outside room empty but her bed chamber door open. She marched to the door angrily calling. “Zevran! I told you to stay out of my things! Now get out…” she froze in total astonishment.  
Alistair was standing next to the table by the bed, holding a glass box containing a single red rose, suspended magically. She watched as he looked at it, his face looking as it did the day he gave the flower to her, all those years ago.  
She stood and watched him as he remembered that time by the lake. She spoke quietly, “I had Sandal enchant it. I couldn’t bear to lose it.”  
He smiled at her admission, the old smile she loved so well. She smiled back then paused, “You are well?” she asked softly. He was leaner and more muscled than she remembered as if he had been working out in the lists. She liked the look.  
“Yes,” he replied hesitantly, “The dreams…have gone.”  
Sarina nodded, relieved, “Have you eaten?” she asked.  
“Yes, your seneschal was kind enough to provide a meal before you were called and gave me a chance to clean up. It was a long ride.”  
She shifted on her feet a little, lowering her head, “He’s a good man,” she paused, “Would you like a drink? I have whiskey if you’d like.”  
Alistair turned and placed the rose back on the table and turned back to her, “I… think I’ll stick to ale from now on, if you don’t mind.”  
Sarina smiled at his admission and went to pour a glass for him from the sideboard. She brought it over and handed it to him, “Would you like to sit down?” she asked, gesturing to the chair near him.  
He shook his head, taking a long drink from the glass he held. “Sarina…I…” he started, his voice cracking with emotion, not knowing what to say. He took another big drink, put down the glass and faced her. “The direct approach,” he thought, “She never turned me away before.”  
“I need you,” he said simply, “Maker, Sarina, I need you so!”  
Sarina’s heart leaped, “I need you to,” she said, tears in her eyes.  
Alistair stepped toward her, “Let me stay, please?”  
“I thought you’d never ask.”  
He took her in his arms and kissed her with all the passion and feeling he had and she returned it all. “Maker, I missed you,” he exclaimed as his mouth roved over her neck and down. He loosened the lacings of her tunic and slipped it down to expose her skin, kissing her as the cloth slid off her shoulders.  
Sarina moaned with pleasure, it had been so long. She ran her hands around his waist, pulling his shirt loose and running her hands up under it, reveling in the touch of his skin. He gasped and lifted it over his head, tossing it away for her. She laughed softly and he kissed her, laughing himself.  
She pulled away, saying, “Boots?” to which he sat down and began to unlace and pull them off. She ran to the outside door and threw the bolt, stopping to remove her own boots, and then quickly returning to his arms.  
He was ready for her and lifted her tunic over her head, throwing it behind him, and taking her breasts in his hands, running his fingers over them. Sarina moaned and gasped, her hands hanging onto his shoulders as he bent to kiss them, lingering over each one. He smiled at her reaction, and kissed her mouth again until they were breathless with want and need. She took his hand and led him to bed, sitting down on the edge.  
They each reached for the lacings on the other’s breeches and pulled the strings, loosening them. Alistair pulled Sarina’s off her and removed her small clothes. He removed his own and pulled her into his arms, reaching around to wrap her legs around him, letting her feel his hardness. She cried out her need and he set her back down on the bed and she scooted back allowing him to follow.  
Alistair smiled and settled himself between her legs, feeling her readiness. “Please,” she begged him and he slid in slowly, as if for the first time. Sarina gasped and wrapped her legs around him and he pushed himself all the way in, panting to retain control.  
“Sarina…” he said, and then kissed her hard, moving in the rhythm they both needed and desired. They rose and rose with the sensation until they cried out together in ecstasy, collapsing in each other’s arms.  
They held each other as they returned to themselves, looking at each other warily, gauging the other’s reaction. Sarina kissed his fears away, and knew he was hers again.

*****

Dawn broke and Sarina slowly came awake. They had not slept much all night, preferring to enjoy each other instead, it had been so long. She had lost count of the times.  
She stretched and rolled to her side to snuggle in to Alistair only to find an empty spot where he had been. She sat up and looked to see where he was and noticed his clothes were gone.  
Sarina got up and put on her robe to look in the sitting room and there was no trace of him. She opened the door and called to the guard. “Where is the king?”  
“He left every early this morning, Commander. Said he had to get back to the palace,” replied the guard, who saluted her.  
“Of course,” she said, “Carry on,” and she shut the door, leaning against it. “He’s gone,” she thought sadly, tears falling. She walked back into the bed chamber to dress for another day and there on the bedside table next to the glass box was a single red rose.  
   
The End of the Beginning  
Vigil’s Keep

“They want you to come down and tend to the business yourself,” Zevran said.  
“Couldn’t I just send someone? They wouldn’t know if they were a Warden anyway. I could send you,” complained Sarina.  
Zevran shook his head, “The Dalish have enough problems in their new homeland as it is. I wouldn’t throw a fake Warden at them too.”  
“So the Warden Commander has to go down and open a box that contains Grey Warden documents. They’re probably just invoices for the quartermaster anyway.”  
“It’s an easy journey and pleasant weather, go and enjoy yourself for once,” he told her.  
Sarina put down her pen and thought. It might be a nice change, “Okay, I’ll go. Just this once.”  
‘I’ll make the arrangements myself, we should leave tomorrow,” as he practically skipped out the door in happiness.  
Sarina shook her head and smiled, opening her desk drawer to remove a bottle of mint oil she kept there now. She took a small drink and replaced it in the drawer. Her stomach had been troubling her for days and mint was the only thing that seemed to help keep her food down. It was puzzling to her as the reason. As a Warden she hadn’t been sick since the night of her Joining. She made a mental note to see the mage healer when she returned from Ostagar. For the time being the mint would work well enough. She picked up her pen.

Ostagar

As it had turned out the trip had not been a total waste of time as she had anticipated. The documents were genuine and were discovered to have been stashed by Duncan and the other Wardens before the battle for safe keeping. They included copies of the Joining Ritual and several personal items from the Warden group, letters and wills mostly. Sarina would see that they were delivered to the necessary parties.  
The Dalish were most eager to show the queen of Ferelden the many things they had done to the fort and the surrounding area in preparation for their move. Ostagar bore no resemblance to the one of old and was now a thriving village of people who were craftsmen and tradesmen. The Dalish elders intended to make the fort their main village and seat of power so she spent much time with them there.  
Zevran had miraculously disappeared almost the instant they had arrived and had thus been no help to her at all. Sarina expected it had something to do with a young woman he’d met on his last trip named Sabina so she didn’t expect to see him any time before they left.  
On the third day, she found herself with some free time so she took a walk around the fort, looking at all the old sites she remembered from the two times she had been here before. Walking over the causeway bridge she stopped where they had found Cailan and said a small prayer for the kind man who had been so eager to help and had died so young.  
On the other side, she found the old Warden campsite where she stayed on the one night she was here. The mages area and the quartermaster’s corner were all still there but had been cleaned up and much was salvaged. The Dalish were a thrifty bunch and nothing was left to waste.  
She walked up the steps into the temple area looking left down the long ancient hall to where the war council had met to make the final plans for that last battle. Where Uldred and Loghain had implemented their final plan of which she and Alistair had been unwitting partners.  
To the right was the old temple where she had first met him and had her Joining so long ago now. She walked to the middle and stood where she had that time, listening to him argue with the mage. She smiled thinking of his disgust at the whole matter.  
Sarina walked on to the edge of the old wall, looking out over the chasm at the entire fort and the old battlefield. It had been so beautiful then and was still even now. The Darkspawn had not been able to change that. As she stood there, her body began to tingle and she reached for her bow, turning around to check for danger.  
There was no telling how long he had been watching her, standing to the edge, just out of sight. He had moved to the open and stood there watching her, waiting for her to notice him. “You allowed yourself to be distracted, recruit,” he said sternly.  
“I had good reason I think,” she replied softly, slinging her bow on her back.  
Alistair walked out into the open, she looked thinner, he thought, and pale. He smiled at her reply. “Zevran said you’d be here.”  
She paced around the temple nervously, furiously thinking about what to say when he spoke again, “You look beautiful,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “It is good to see you,”  
“You left me,” she said bluntly.  
“And you left me, as I recall, but I’m not here to talk about that.”  
“I know. She is gone for good now. The dreams?”  
Alistair paced around the area, “Gone, like her.”  
Sarina nodded, “I’m glad.”  
“What now?” he asked, his eyes pleading. He had stopped his pacing and came to stand in front of her. He reached down and took her hand, looking at the rings he’d placed there once upon a time. “You still wear them?”  
“Yes. It’s funny how the Blight brings people together,” she said.  
He took a step towards her, still holding her hand and placing it on his heart. “I know exactly what you mean,” he replied.  
She looked at the hand he held to his chest then looked into his blue eyes, so full of hope where she had once seen only despair, “I want to come home,” she told him, tears in her eyes, “Please?”  
Alistair let out a cry and embraced her, burying his face in her hair, “Maker yes!” and kissing her.  
Sarina cried for joy at his response, “Really?” she asked, “You’re sure?”  
“I’m sure,” he said, hugging her.  
He stood back and looked at her and Sarina noticed his face changing. He became quiet, like he did when he was sensing Darkspawn, but there were none here. “Alistair? What is it?”  
He looked at her as if she were someone else for a moment then his face changed to one of wonder and almost excitement. “Are you okay?” he asked her, concern written in his voice.  
“All right, I guess. I have had problems with my stomach lately but that could be anything. What’s the matter?”  
He took his hand and put it on her stomach, holding it there as a smile slowly spread across his face. “You don’t know?” he asked her.  
‘Know what? Alistair you’re scaring me,” she asked worriedly.  
He laughed loud at that and hugged her close. When he pulled away, he told her what he’d sensed, “You’re pregnant.”  
Sarina put her hand on her stomach, feeling out with her senses, “I…can’t be. That’s impossible.”  
“Just highly unlikely but true enough, love. I feel it through the taint.”  
She reached out with her senses, closing her eyes, seeing the new life she held near her heart, a fitting place indeed for such as this. “It’s true,” she whispered, throwing her arms around him. “Thank you!”  
He laughed a loud hearty laugh, twirling her around until she squealed, “Thank you, love. Still coming home? You have a good reason now.”  
“Try to stop me,” she said, reaching to put her hands around his neck, “I love you.”  
“I love you,” he replied and he did.


End file.
